


Dust to Dust

by Shaw



Series: Dust to Dust [1]
Category: Golden Compass Inspired Plot, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Childhood, Gen, Slow Build, This is going to take a while to finish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:26:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 190,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaw/pseuds/Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred F. Kirkland and Matthew Bonnefoy would have been fine to live the rest of their young lives roaming Jordan College and watching the lives of the citizens of Oxford; they would not have objected to perhaps sharing an adventure or two together either. But when the two end up thrown into a strange, bewitching, and dangerous journey that neither of them could have anticipated, they end up with more on their plates than they bargained.  Between elaborate lies, disappearing children, and revelations that will change them both forever, Matthew and Alfred will find themselves in perils beyond their wildest imaginations...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Boys

There are things in this world that are dictated by nothing and yet by all. They are the tiny things; the granted things. Such as for example: a shared birthday, a smudge of dirt by the lips, an eyelash on the cheek, and even simply the smile given by the passing stranger. Yet as it goes the most underappreciated thing of them all is the spectacularly human trait of choice. So the story begins.  
It was on a pleasantly warm and particularly breezy day, one where the avian daemons of this realm partook in great feats of acrobatics, when Alfred Fredrick Kirkland was born. He came into the world quickly, with great ease upon his mother, and was the epitome of health in all its natural wonders. He was a larger child with well developed muscles for a newborn baby and a wisp of blonde curls a top his otherwise bald head. The little boy was quite loud and positively drove his poor mother and her nurse-maids mad, keeping them up at all unholy times of the night and morning. But as fate goes, Alfred’s mother fell ill-- deathly ill. At only a few months old the young boy would find himself mother-less; with this new factor it would be arranged that Alfred would fall under the care of Arthur Kirkland, his uncle.  
Alas, Arthur was a very busy man; he was a politician, a warrior, a traveler, an author, and most of all a scientist. This meant that the man had very little time to attend to his nephew and seeing as how important he was this most definitely meant he could not just drop everything and take care of his dearly departed’s child. In the end Arthur left the care of the boy to the scholars of Jordan College in Oxford, one of which was a childhood acquaintance of his.  
Any sensible parent would have thought dumping a child on a bunch of bachelor scholars was a heinous idea; Arthur was obviously not a sensible parent nor was he much of a parent at all. So, Alfred was handed off to the University to be raised by the maids and the scholars there under order of Lord Kirkland. Elaborating on all of this, Jordan College was a large and prestigious establishment that had been standing for centuries by the time Alfred was transported there to live out his childhood, and if he was lucky his adulthood. The many buildings and areas that encompassed the school were enclosed within tall iron gates that had great swirling designs and spires. There were botanical centers and areas where livestock was kept, as well as places where these goods were processed and refined. All in all, the university could function as its own city-state if it so pleased. That wasn’t even counting the lands the college owned outside of the immediate area.  
In this grandiose place there was a particular scholar was in charge of keeping the young Alfred in check as he grew older; His name was Francis Bonnefoy and he had known Arthur since they were both but young boys and he had grown to watch the other man accomplish what he had always passed as impossible. Ah, but, as Arthur had gone on from Oxford and pursued the greatness he had so rightfully now earned Francis had stayed behind and as he found it had brought him quite the bit of trouble in the grand schemes of things.  
But things work in mysterious ways; only a day before Alfred’s third birthday there was a surprise for his head caretaker that would surely change not only his life but Alfred’s’ as well. The second Matthew Bonnefoy was born he was thrust from his mother’s arms and into Francis’. It was very sudden, but Francis fell quite abruptly in love with the small quiet bundle of blue blankets and blonde curls the second he grasped the child. Albeit, taking care of a newborn was extremely strenuous. Francis often found himself neglecting Alfred in favor of making sure that Matthew, to put it simply, survived. Taking care of two boys was rough on the older man but as time dragged on he got used to balancing the care of the boys and his studies until he was able to pass Matthew to the maids and butlers while he became Alfred’s personal tutor.  
Although one would think it strange, Alfred and Matthew never officially met one another while under the care of Francis until later in their lives. This was mostly in due part to how the two grew up separate from one another. It wasn’t as if Francis had intentionally kept them from meeting, he had just seen no real reason to have them together. That and he hardly needed Alfred being too rowdy with little Matthew either. The two boys were different in every way that was visible to the naked eye, and it was surely a surprise for all of Oxford when the two became friends, but first we must cover how exactly they became friends in the first place.

The day had been a mellow one, a few occasional drizzles of rain passed overhead every other hour—this was expected in the month of April. A nippy breeze periodically blew in to surprise those wandering about in their short dusters and boots. One of these people going about their business was a petite young boy with chin length straw blonde hair that curled gently around his soft porcelain face. He had large doe-esque blue-lavender eyes framed by long dark-blonde eyelashes. Small pink lips puckered in concentration as the boy pulled his worn down light blue blazer closed tighter as a gust of cold air blew past him and danced over his cheeks, tinting them a delicate shade of red. This little boy was none other than Matthew Bonnefoy; currently he was taking out the slop to the small group of pigs in the agriculture areas of the university.  
He had no qualms with doing this chore, in all honestly. Matthew enjoyed helping out around as much as possible. It definitely gave him something to do other than sit around and idle the days away. He just wished he perhaps had somebody to do his chores with other than the kitchen maids and the occasional butler. As far the boy was aware, there were no other children lodging in Jordan other than himself—thus he had ended up entertaining himself most often by going to the library or sitting outside the lecture halls and listening to the drone of the professors over subjects no right-minded eight year old would have any interest in.  
So now here he was barely protected against the unusually chilly wind and trying to drag this awfully heavy bucket of slop and rinds to the pig pens. Just as he was about to sigh for perhaps the fifth time in a row, a voice near his ear piped up.  
“Would you stop sighing so much? Maybe if you stop releasing so much hot air you won’t be so cold.” What might have been mistaken for a fur collar suddenly moved and stuck its pointed furry muzzle into the cold air, small black nose twitching as the animal spoke. Matthew ended up sighing anyways and rolled his eyes slightly. The white ermine around his neck made a noise of indignation as it shifted off of Matthew’s neck and abruptly morphed into a grey goose fledgling right before Matthew’s eyes. He did not seem too surprised at this; after all, this was his daemon.  
The creature flapped around Matthew’s head for several moments as the boy pulled the collar of his coat up (due to the lack of previous warmth now missing from his neck) before settling on his shoulder and fluffing its feathers up.  
“I would stop sighing if I could, Otti—I really would. You know why!” A slight uncharacteristic whine threatened to edge to prominence in Matthew’s tone as his daemon, Ottium, blinked his beady eyes twice before releasing a sigh of his own. The blond gave a couple more tugs of the slop bucket before finally arriving to the pig pens. Ottium took flight and landed on the fencing as the pigs came trotting out to the trough. Matthew, with great difficulty, managed to get the bucket over his head and start to tip it precariously over the edge of the fence. Just as he was getting up on his tiptoes to tip the bucket further, another set of hands suddenly grasped the bucket and pushed it farther for him.  
“Here, let me help!” Matthew gasped deeply in surprise, hands darting away from the bucket as it ended up tipped all the way over the fence sending slop everywhere as it fell and rattled down into the metal trough. Slipping out from under an unidentified arm Matthew turned around as Ottium dived down from a short ways up in the sky and hit the ground in the form of a ravenous wildcat, fur along his spine bristling and emerald green eyes bright. Matthew, having been startled beyond belief, was even more surprised to see that the person who had come up behind him was a boy. Not a man, one might stress, but a boy. As in a child.  
The boy before him was around a foot taller than he was which was a dead- ringer was that he was older than Matthew. He had short straight golden blonde hair that was cut around his ears and parted off to the right in an attempt to look neat. Sadly a cowlick standing up from his part line ruined the whole effect. Wide bright baby blue eyes looked from Ottium to Matthew in surprise as the boy’s own daemon, who had taken the form of a large canine, bristled at Ottium.  
“Lysi, calm down would you?” Ottium gave a long low hiss before morphing into a common house cat and skittering to hide behind Matthew’s trembling legs. The other boy’s daemon gave what looked like a grin before backing over to her human with a soft murmur. In the meantime the boy had adopted a rather sheepish smile on his tanned face which revealed a pearly set of mismatched baby and adult teeth.  
“Hey, I’m sorry if I scared you… I saw you from up there,” As the boy pointed Matthew followed with his eyes to a set of windows on the third story of one of the nearby buildings. “And, well, I’ve never seen any other kids here and you looked like you were having trouble so… I came down to help!” There was a pause as the boy’s eyes flit to the mess they’d made of the troughs before his face reddened a bit and his gaze fell to the ground.  
“I guess I sort of did more harm than good though…” Matthew just blinked silently, unsure of what to say to this other kid who had magically come from seemingly nowhere. There really was another kid here at Jordan? And he looked like he was being mentored under the scholars judging by his rather proper and new looking attire. When Matthew’s silence was prolonged, another voice broke into the conversation.  
“I think she’s a mute, Alfred.” Automatically the boy, who Matthew could now tell was called Alfred, gave an almost insulted look at the notion. Even as Matthew was opening his mouth to correct the daemon and say he was a boy, Ottium pushed his head between Matthew’s legs and glared at the other daemon.  
“Excuse you! Matthew is not a she!” Alfred jolted a bit when Ottium talked and looked from the daemon to Matthew before the wheels started turning in his head.  
“Wait, your daemon is the same as you? Wow that’s actually kind of cool! Uh—but right! I’m Alfred if you couldn’t have guessed. This is Lysimanche, but I just call her Lysi.” Alfred gave another fuller smile and shoved a hand out to shake.  
“Your name is Matthew? That’s a nice name! Sorry for thinking you were a girl by the way. You’re just sort of small for a guy is all.” Ottium grumbled something under his breath as Matthew frowned vaguely and looked Alfred up and down before very slowly reaching a hand out to shake Alfred’s.  
“It’s very nice to meet you.” When the younger boy spoke Alfred’s brow furrowed and he leaned in, eyes narrowing.  
“What?”  
“I said, it’s very nice to meet you.” Now hearing Matthew clearly, Alfred nodded and gave the boy’s hand a squeeze before letting go and patting Lysimanche gently as she suddenly lighted upon his shoulder in the form of a young red-tailed hawk.  
“It’s cool to meet you too! So, this means we’re friends now right?” Matthew looked down at Ottium at the question. The daemon shrugged his shoulders and sat down and lazily started to lick a paw and drag it over his face. The smaller blond ended up looking down and tugging at his sleeves idly as he tried to find out what to say. He moved back as Alfred crouched down to look him in the eye.  
“You’re pretty shy aren’t you? I knew you weren’t mute though! That’s just Lysi being mean. I promise she’s actually really nice. But hey, we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to! We can be ac… acquint… acquient….”  
“Acquaintances?...”  
“Yeah that word! You’re smart too huh? Blah, I’m not really about the brains thing. I’m pretty strong though.” Matthew tilted his head at Alfred’s blabbering and watched Lysimanche puff up with pride. Quite out of the blue Ottium jumped up into his arms in the form of a lemur, and the sight of the creature made Alfred ogle and gasp in awe.  
“Whoa, that’s a cool animal! What is it?” It was Matthew’s daemon’s turn to fill with pride. Truth be told, Ottium loved to shift into obscure animal forms just to help Matthew show off how many different animals he knew about from reading about them in the scholars books.  
“It’s a ring tailed lemur. They’re native to this really newly discovered island off the coast of the African continent and they live in these really big jungles where it rains a lot… and they eat these really weird fruits and—“ Matthew fell silent abruptly and simply pet Ottium as he clung to the blonds’ chest and chattered softly. In a not so inconspicuous way, Lysimanche had copied Ottium form except with longer fur and a fluffier tail. Alfred barely noticed his daemon’s form at the moment and instead simply stared at Matthew as if he’d started speaking in another language.  
“You really are smart.” He stated dumbly, eyebrows arched up in an almost daunted way. Matthew managed a small smile and hugged his daemon to his chest with a humble shrug.  
“I read a lot is all. Or, at least when I can.” Ottium spoke up noisily at this point.  
“You read all the time, even when you’re not supposed to! That’s how you got dishwater on that one history book!” Alfred simply laughed good-heartedly as Matthew’s face flared red.  
“Dishwater, huh? Where were you that you got dishwater on a book?”  
“I was doing the dishes in the kitchen…” A soft groan came from Lysimanche as she shifted back into the form of a red-tailed hawk, seeming to grow bored of being a lemur.  
“Yeah, no duh Alfred! He’s some servant boy after all.” Alfred seemingly ignored Lysi as he nodded slowly.  
“Right… Hey, it’s really cold out here. Do you want to go inside now? I can introduce you to my tutor! You sort of remind me of him—you both have really pretty hair.” Alfred reached out to grab Matthew by the hand, catching the boy by surprise with the compliment as he let himself be tugged along as he struggled to keep up with Alfred’s larger strides.  
“You think my hair is pretty?” Sadly, Alfred did not hear his question and simply kept tugging Matthew along over to the building the younger boy could assume that the older had come from in the first place. Casting a worried glance back to the abandoned bucket and spewed slop, which was now mostly gone due to the pigs eating a good bit of it, Matthew faintly wondered if Francis would be mad at him for not completing his chore.  
Reentering the building was a relief on Matthew’s chilled skin, and he gently tugged his hand from Alfred’s and rubbed it with his other as he looked around. It wasn’t often he came into this building without Francis’ supervision. This was where the scholars tended to do most of their work after all. Or at least that’s what the man had told him.  
“Do you live here?” Matthew muttered as Ottium turned into a small grey mouse and burrowed into his shirt. Alfred looked around before turning back to Matthew; Lysimanche circled around the two of them impressively for such limited range.  
“Did you ask if I lived here?” Alfred questioned with a couple rapid blinks. Lysimanche circled tightly round Matthew’s head causing the boy to recoil before the bird went back and landed on Alfred’s shoulder. Ottium gave an insulted noise from within the younger boy’s clothes and mocked the other daemon as she spoke.  
“Well of course we live here you dumpy. Where else would we live?” Her words didn’t have as much bite as they previously had, but it didn’t make Matthew feel any better; he could feel his ears burning red with sour embarrassment. Alfred made a displeased face and reached out a hand to nudge Matthew’s shoulder.  
“Yeah, I live here! It’s pretty cool, but it’s also really boring. Well, until my uncle comes to visit! Then everything really comes to life and sometimes he stops by to see how I’m doing in my studies. But come on! We need to get to my room. I’m pretty sure Sir Bonnefoy is back from that break he took.” Alfred turned away from Matthew before the young boy’s eyes could even widen in disbelief. Once more the boy was being dragged along by Alfred, trying to get his attention only to have Lysimanche stare at him imprudently. Against his better judgment he made a face at the currently avian daemon and watched in satisfaction as her feather fluffed up in insult. Sir Bonnefoy, Alfred had said. Was it really possible he was talking about Mister Francis?  
Matthew almost fell flat on his face as Alfred suddenly took a sharp turn and started to ascend a steep flight of stairs two at a time with impossible ease. Matthew on the other hand was not experienced with stairs, at least none this long or steep, and ended up having to put his hand on the railing and take them carefully one at a time while Alfred jittered impatiently at the top of the staircase. Several scholars going about their business casts glances at the two children. Most were familiar with the presence of Alfred but expressed the slightest twinge of bewilderment at the sudden appearance of another child. Some of the more senile might even mutter to themselves and their daemons about ‘just how many children are they allowing in Jordan nowadays’ or ‘pesky brats’. These were the kind of people we will forfeit from the Secret Santa for they are, in fact, assholes of the most unprecedented degree that would with no doubt give a sarcastic thank you for the gift you get them. What a bunch of dicks.  
Besides the presence of these individuals judging them from afar, Matthew and Alfred climbed one more flight of stairs before Matthew raced after Alfred down a hall way where he borderline crashed into the older boy when he came to an abrupt halt outside of a semi-opened door. Shushing Matthew noisily, Alfred turned to look into the room as Lysimanche took the form of a small canary and nested down into the boy’s hair. Matthew wiggled his way in to peek through the crack as well and spotted exactly who he had expected to see standing in the room pacing with an impressive looking lioness at his heels.  
Francis Bonnefoy was never one to get too annoyed with the boys under his care, but he must admit that at times Alfred sure did grate his cheese something fierce. He knew the boy would be back any second now—he wasn’t a dumb child. He knew his limits. He just hoped that the boy wasn’t dragging another muddied dog or half dead bird in with him.  
“Francois, they are here.” Britainny spoke up softly, ears swiveled to the door as her great head swung to face the same direction. Francis followed her gaze, tucking a strange of gold blond hair back behind his ear as his blue eyes narrowed. They only sprung back open in shock as Alfred entered with not a dog or a bird but with another child. In the loosest terms, Alfred had just walked in with Francis’ child. They are here, she had said. And there they were indeed.  
“Mathieu?” Francis paced over to the boys as they stood in the now open doorway, their daemons meek in the presence of his own as she lazily padded over to them with her tail swaying to and fro. The littler of the two boys nodded furiously as if agreeing with Francis that that was in fact his name. Alfred simply seemed dumb-founded.  
“What is this? I thought I told you to go feed the piglets, not show up at random here where you are not supposed to be.” Francis chided gently, kneeling down and cupping the boy’s face in his hand as he ran his thumb over his cheeks. Matthew said nothing but his brow knit together and Francis could see Ottium, nothing but a shivering lump, hiding in Matthew’s shirt. It was then that Alfred spoke up loudly as to make sure Francis heard him.  
“I brought him here! How come you didn’t tell me there was another kid here, Sir Bonnefoy? And how come he knows you? Is he your nephew?” Matthew opened his mouth to say something only to be hushed by Francis’ finger. Lysimanche took flight off Alfred’s head and flittered over to rest upon Britainny’s instead, pecking at the lioness’ ears gently.  
“Well, it was simply something that did not cross my mind, Alfred. Thank you for telling me it was you who had brought him here.” A pause broke in as Francis watched Lysimanche pestering his daemon before turning his attention back to the boys. “I am not just the man your uncle wanted to take care of you. Mathieu is a relative of mine yes… but I would not say am his uncle; I have been taking care of him as well as you. Is that enough for you, hm?” Alfred seemed satisfied with these answers, gaze lazily shifting to watch his daemon picking at the lioness’ ears. Just as Alfred perked up a particularly careless peck made Britainny growl in pain and as result made Francis’ flinch.  
“Are his parents dead too?” The brash question made Matthew’s eyes widen as he looked from Alfred to Francis, his jaw dropped in disbelief at the inquiry. Ottium crawled out from Matthew’s shirt in the form of a cockroach and, peculiarly enough, started to hiss at Alfred. Francis scowled and Britainny gently batted Lysimanche off of her head as she walked in a couple of frustrated circles and looked to Francis as if waiting to see how he would answer.  
“Alfred, you cannot just ask such questions and you are well aware of this. What would you uncle have said if he’d heard you say that?” Alfred shrugged and looked away with apparent disinterest as Lysimanche landed back on his shoulder, but by her slightly distressed twittering it was apparent he knew he had done something wrong.  
“It was just a question. And I don’t think he’d care very much. He never talks about dad anyways.” Matthew, who now had the beginnings of tears in his eyes,was not comforted by Alfred’s response at all. Francis pursed his lips and cleared his throat. This automatically caught the older boy’s attention and the stern gaze of the lioness next to him was enough to make Lysimanche fall completely silent on Alfred’s shoulder.  
“Apologize to Mathieu, Alfred.” The words came out solid and sure sounding. It was a tone that Matthew had honestly never heard to this day—partly because he had never done anything to have to face that tone. He was a very tame child after all. Matthew shifted to look up at Alfred, and the second his bleary eyes met the older boy’s an apology tumbled from his lips and a small sad tweet was heard from Lysimanche as well. Ottium quickly changed into the form of a jasper brown rabbit and slipped down into Matthew’s arm now that he was content. Matthew managed a wet smile that made a small one tweak on Alfred’s lips in turn as Francis released a deep exhale and patted the two boys.  
“Well, I suppose I will be looking after the both of you, again, from now on oui? How tedious. I can already feel the bags under my eyes from all the sleepless nights! Comment contrariant…” Francis stood from his kneeling position now as Britainny moved to rub against his legs comfortingly.  
“Quoi à propos son père, François?” The daemon spoke softly in French, as to throw the other two boys and their daemons off as to what the two of them were speaking of. Judging by the evident confusion from the two it had worked. Francis felt a sharp spike of worry pierce his chest at the thought of having to deal with that talk this early.  
“For another day, Britainny. Another day.” And at that, Francis dropped the topic and returned his attention back to the task at hand. Now with a weary heart, the man looked over Matthew and Alfred. The two were watching each other in almost sheer fascination. It was no surprise. The closest thing either had seen to another child was pictures in story books or hazy figures playing ball outside of the gates of the university. Very tentatively, Alfred reached out a hand to touch Matthew’s hair and in turn the younger boy hesitantly extended his own out to prod Alfred on the stomach and chest. It almost made Francis start laughing. He’d never seen a stranger pair of kids.  
“Excusez-moi, you two-- Before we start a game of doctor, might I suggest we return to Alfred’s lesson?” Hands were retracted quickly as Alfred groaned slightly and Francis arched up a brow as Matthew turned to leave. Before the man could even question him, Alfred’s daemon got to the whip crack and spoke up.  
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Alfred nodded, for once listening to what his daemon was saying, and moved to nudge the door closed as Matthew came to a stop.  
“I would quite agree. Now, Mathieu, you are allowed to join us. I was simply teaching Alfred mathematics. I’m sure you’ll pick up on it just fine. Come—take a seat. Maybe once we’re done I can teach you about something interesting.” This seemed to inspire even more wonder into Matthew which he quite promptly shared in a hushed tone with his daemon as he brought the rabbit up to his face and buried it into Ottium’s fur momentarily. It brought the thought to Francis’ mind that he really hadn’t taught anything past the basics to Matthew. He had noted that the boy basically taught himself to read as well; a small pang of shame made Francis’ brow furrow.  
Alfred, with great haste, took a hold of Matthew’s hand and led him over to the small table by the day seats that adorned the large windows of his study room. Francis was greatly amused to see the older boy pull a chair out for Matthew and even Lysimanche, who had taken the form of a small white furred monkey, was picking up Ottium carefully from where Matthew had set him on the table and stroking the little rabbit nicely. He should have expected Alfred to be absolutely smitten with Matthew to be honest. The boy was always bugging Francis, and sometimes even Britainny, about if there were other kids his age in the college. Granted, Matthew was three years younger than Alfred… but neither of them seemed to care.  
Taking his seat across from the two boys, Francis watched his daemon slip under the table and up into the seat of the window. She placed her paws onto the table and watched the two smaller daemons closely as to make sure they played nice while Francis and the boys were distracted.  
“Before all of this, Alfred, which of your tables were we going over?” Francis queried as he sifted through the mathematics books and papers that he had already had set out on the table. Alfred leaned forward onto the table, face cupped in his hands as he rested on his elbows.  
“We were working on the six tables.” Finally locating the flashcards they had been using earlier Francis gave a soft satisfied hum at Alfred’s cooperation and looked to Matthew.  
“Mathieu, do not feel pressured to know all of this. The basic of multiplication is adding another unit of the number in question onto the base. Give me an example of this to show you understand.” Matthew seemed struck for several moments before lowering his head and murmuring to himself in thought. Francis simply cleared his throat to remind Matthew that he needed to speak up. The boy looked up at this and blinked several times.  
“It’s like when things come in pairs… You start with two and with each pair added you have to bump the total up by two. So if you had six pairs you would have a dozen.” Francis nodded, slightly impressed. Matthew was taking care of himself even without Francis holding his hand each step. As to be expected from such a careful attentive boy growing up among the greatest minds in the world.  
“Using your example of two, can you tell me what ten times two is?” Alfred watched Matthew as the boy’s head bowed again. It was only down a moment before he raised it again and gave his answer.  
“It’s two tens?...”  
“Twenty-- correct! Very good, Mathieu. Now keep this in mind while we do the six tables.” Not noticing the strange look from Alfred at Matthew’s answer, Francis waited until he had both boys’ attention and raised the first flashcard. In big bold print it read ‘6 x 3’. Francis was almost startled when Alfred merely blurted out the answer with ease. Just prior it had been like pulling teeth to get an answer, much less one that was correct.  
“It’s eighteen.”  
“Excellent job, Alfred. Matthew do you think it’s eighteen as well?” After thinking over it a moment and counting on his fingers a couple times the young boy nodded and agreed softly. The next flashcard was lifted after the first was set down, and Francis barely got a chance to think before Alfred said the answer again.  
“The answer’s fifty-four.” Francis’ eyes narrowed slightly as, ironically enough, two and two came together in his head. The prideful boasting look that Alfred had adopted as he tried to pretend he wasn’t paying attention to the impressed look Matthew was giving him made too much sense. He was showing off. Of course this was to be expected. Alfred really was his father’s son, wasn’t he?  
“Mathieu, do not mind answer these next few. I just want to see something.” The multiplication cards for the sixes were set aside as Francis picked up the sevens in their place. Sevens, as he recalled, had always stumped him as a child. Time to see just how far ahead Alfred was in comparison to what he let on. The first cardrose as ‘7 x 4’ and the answer came automatically.  
“It’s twenty-eight!” And the next one rose right after the answer was given only to be met with another answer.  
“Forty-nine.” Once more.  
“Eighty-four.” And with that Francis set the cards down and leaned back in his seat.  
“Recite your six tables and your sevens tables for me Alfred. In order.” Alfred immediately responded to the challenge and started to rattle off the numbers with speed and excellent articulation.  
“Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, thirty, thirty-six, forty-two, forty-eight, fifty-four, sixty, sixty-six, seventy-two; seven, fourteen, twenty-one, twenty-eight, thirty-five, forty-two, forty-nine, fifty-six, sixty-three, seventy, seventy-seven, eighty-four.” Matthew’s eyes were wide at this point and Francis was sure that Alfred would burst with his own ego at any second now. Lysimanche was making pleased noises while playing with Ottium’s ears, a reflection of what was going on between the two boys at the moment. Francis simply gave a look of sour contempt and laughed to himself as Britainny bopped Lysimanche on the head lightly, making the little daemon drop Ottium. The rabbit hopped back to Matthew quickly where he then morphed into a small green lizard which Francis identified as a gecko. Matthew took the lizard into his hands and raised him to his ear to listen to what the daemon had to say.  
“Alfred, isn’t it funny that you suddenly seem to know your most difficult multiplication tables now that Mathieu is here yet you fought tooth and nail over answering your’ fives tables not even just around half an hour ago? I’ll keep in mind to have him accompany on your lessons more often if it means you’ll be displaying such progress.” Britainny gave a loud rumbling noise from deep in her chest as Alfred turned pink in the face and his daemon abruptly transformed into a thrush and fled to his side. Francis merely clucked his tongue and turned back to Matthew.  
“Alright Mathieu—how about we start with the threes. If you get stumped I am sure Alfred will be eager to lend you an answer or two.” The younger blond nodded eagerly, not even minding the fact that his daemon had crawled onto his cheek. Francis tucked some loose hairs back behind his ear, decidedly noting that he needed to retie his hair ribbon soon, and retrieved the threes table flashcards and shuffled them before raising one for the boy. The numbers read ‘3 x 9’.  
Matthew sat staring at the card, thinking it over silently, for several moments. Eventually he spoke up with an unsure but louder than usual voice.  
“Is the answer two tens and seven?”  
“Twenty-seven?” Francis countered with his eyebrows raised. Matthew nodded unsurely. It suddenly dawned on Francis that he had taught the younger boy how to count differently than he had taught Alfred to. That explained the strange answer; he hadn’t even realized it before. He had learned how to count to ten and then combining the tens up to fifty. A number like ninety-three would be said as one fifty four tens and three. Not the most convenient way of counting but it worked well with the kind of work Matthew was usually doing in the kitchen and with the maids—that and Francis had been teaching Alfred how to read when he taught that to Matthew. Then again he was still teaching Alfred how to read. While the young Kirkland excelled at math, he had much to be desired in the literature department.  
Fixing the way Matthew counted would have to be for another day. Now Francis just needed to go through the motions and let it happen as it happened. The boy was picking up on the math rather well even if he didn’t count normally. As long as his answers were correct that didn’t matter for the time being. Several more rounds of threes were gone over before Francis started on the fours only to be interrupted by Alfred bellyaching about being bored. It was then that Matthew looked from the two of them to the book that Francis had brought over that quite obviously had nothing to do with the math they were working on.  
“Ah, excuse you too Alfred. We wouldn’t want you to be getting bored now would we? Fine, I suppose that is enough maths for now. I see you eyeing that book, Mathieu—do not fret. I first wish to give the both of you sheets to work on tonight when you find the time. I expect to see them completed tomorrow morning by breakfast, understood? And Alfred, remember to put your name on your paper now that you are not the only student I will be teaching.” The worksheets Francis had been sorting through were procured this time as he passed a simpler one to Matthew and a more advanced one to Alfred. Matthew very deliberately folded the paper up and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket while Alfred shoved his off to the side and shifted in his seat to sit on his heels.  
“Can we look at the book now, Sir Bonnefoy?” And back to pestering.  
“Of course, Alfred. Try to keep the reins on your horses.” Came the exasperated reply from Francis as he tugged the book across the surface of the desk and flipped it open to the table of contents. What to teach the boys about… Tracing his fingers over the table contents one chapter at a time, Francis quietly tried to decide on what exactly to entertain the boys with. Finally his fingertips found their way to a longer word with a translation next it—Panserbjorn; the Armored Bears.  
That was perfect. A smile managed to find its way on Francis’ face as he brought his thumb to his mouth and ran his tongue over it before he flipped to the page quickly and moved the book so both Alfred and Matthew could see it at the same time. Almost automatically he saw Matthew’s eyes widen in awe and Alfred’s face break into a grin. The pictures themselves were stunning—hand drawn; they were oiled and acryliced straight into the book itself. Nothing less was to be expected of a book taken straight from the libraries of Jordan. Francis simply let the boys looks at the pictures for now, watching Matthew reach a hand out to run it over the drawing of what was labeled as ’The King of the Panserbjorn; Berwald Oxenstierna’. The bear depicted was magnificent. Another picture near this was showcasing his great girth and volume compared to the average armored bear and then that of the regular bear and finally to that of a human. He was humongous.  
Alfred had zeroed in on the next page already, being courteous of Matthew and not turning the paper completely-- he marveled at the scene printed in stunning detail of two armored bears battling for supremacy. Maws wide open and gauntlets of their sky armor catching the light from both the sun and the light that reflected off the ice. A passage on their culture was nearby this illustration as well as a picture of a full set of armor which was labeled as ’The Sky Armor of Iorek the Great’. Once the two boys had made it far enough that pictures no longer satisfied them, they looked back to Francis.  
”Panserbjorn—they’re the armored bears of the Northern Realms, right? That’s what the book said. They live on the ice.” It was Matthew who spoke now, his daemon Ottium buzzing around his head in the shape of a hummingbird. He was obviously excited about these creatures and Francis thanked his lucky stars that Ottium wasn’t occupying the shape of these awful beasts just yet. Alfred pointed to the pages insistently and gave a whine of sorts.  
”Sir Bonnefoy, tell us more about them!” Francis hummed in amusement before giving a deep throaty laugh and raising a hand to shush the two kids as they started to plead with him.  
”Now now boys, of course I’m going to tell you more about them. What good would I do to just show you the pictures, hm? Here, let’s start from the beginning. Please turn the pages back and I’ll walk you through the gist of it all. I’m sure if you want to revisit the topic, the book will be perfect practice for your reading.” This was directed mostly at Alfred, as he knew that Matthew was already adept at reading and had been writing any chance he got.  
”Ah, here we are. You were correct, Mathieu. Good job at pronouncing the name as well. These creatures are indeed the Panserbjorn and they live up in the far Northern Lands just a bit to the east of this land in the kingdom of Svalbard. They look much like bears, or Bears depending where you are looking, that you might find in the great forests and mountains elsewhere, but they’re completely white and stand at astounding heights.” There was a pause as Francis gestured to the depiction of the varying levels of heights that Matthew had been marveling at just earlier.  
”The tallest of the recorded Panserbjorn race is King Berwald the Silent, who is said to stand taller than all previous kings and any armored bear that has ever lived before him. This height is recorded, as of several years ago, to be around two point eight meters. It is unknown if he has grown any taller or if the measurements are accurate.” Matthew raised his hand at this point, such excitement and urgency written across his delicate facial features that Francis had no choice but to respond to him.  
”Oui, Mathieu? Quoi?” The boy put his hand down and shifted forward and looked Francis dead in the eye with startling intensity.  
”I want to meet Mister Berwald.” Francis stayed silent for a moment before having to hold back a laugh at the sudden mental image of little Matthew standing next to such a gigantic creature. All bundled up in furs and skins with his hooded head tipped back as he rocked onto his heels just to look at the great bear king. When Alfred chimed in that he as well wanted to meet ’Mister Berwald’ Francis almost choked on his own chortling. Britainny wasn’t as discreet about her laughter and got a small challenging glare from Lysimanche for it.  
”Of course, Mathieu. I’m sure ’Mister Berwald’ wants to meet you as well.” The innocent excitement that appeared on the young blond’s face was a beautiful sight to see and reminded Francis’ so strangely of the boy’s mother that he had to blink several times to get the image of her out of his head. Matthew seemed pleased with this and sat back again, looking to Alfred excitedly. The older boy nudged him in the arm with a broad grin before tipping his head back to the book.  
”Panserbjorn are known to be extremely aggressive and barbaric in nature compared to other sentient beings, but are also not easily tricked into believing lies or deceit. There have only been three known cases where a Panserbjorn has been tricked into something-- the first Bear was unnamed, the second was with the late King Iorek Byrinson the Great, and the third was King Iofur Rakinson the Fool. Two out of three of these times were due to the use of a substance to deter the mental capabilities of these bears in question.” Alfred was practically vibrating in his seat, eyes blown wide open, pupils dilated. He was absolutely awestruck with these creatures, it was obvious, but Matthew’s wonder was of an entirely different magnitude. Francis looked at Britainny and then back to the boys before continuing reading.  
”Unlike humans, Panserbjorn lack daemons—” This prompted outraged gasps from the two children. Even at such a young age the two had learned it to be scandalous for things to just NOT have daemons, especially sentient things such as these bears. Francis raised a hand to shush the two as he continued on still.  
”It’s speculated that instead the second a Panserbjorn is capable of doing so they start to construct their infamous armor, known as Sky Armor in their culture; It is said the only time a bears armor will break is during their death or after they have died. This leads some to believe that the Panserbjorn is connected to their armor much like a human is connected to their daemon.” This new information did nothing to help quiet the now jabbering blonds as they tried to keep their voices hushed enough as to not agitate their caretaker. Matthew, who knew only a bit more about daemons than Alfred did, was quick to start speculating about the armor and wondered if when it was touched it hurt the bear. But then, wouldn’t it make rather shotty armor? Alfred dismissed the notion with the counterevidence Matthew had supplied for himself before raising the thought that perhaps the armor was, much like how daemons were, the physical manifestation of the Panserbjorn soul forged by their own hands—er, paws. Francis interrupted them with a loud ’ahem’ and a raised eyebrow that finally quieted them again for the time being. It was a good thing he hadn’t picked to tell them about Witches. He could only image what kind of Hell they’d raise over the notion that people would willingly separate themselves from their daemons.  
”The majority of the Panserbjorn race appears to be male dominated, but it is known that females exist—for reproductive purposes at least. Where or how they live is unknown as they seem particularly reclusive and do not rest with the male counterparts of their kind.” It seemed the mystery only seemed to grow for the two young boys. The more Francis told them the more theories their minds were racing to concoct. That and the images of Berwald Oxenstierna were firmly implanted into their hyperactive minds.  
”The male youth of the Panserbjorn are often killed very soon after their birth—whether by their own male sibling, their father, the extreme climate, or mercifully by their own mother due to some sort of crippling defect or abnormality that would hinder them in basic survival. Growing up, the armored bears face extreme brutality both from their own kind as well as their environment. This all ensure that only the strongest of the Panserbjorn survive.” It was at this time that somewhere off in the distance, a great clock chimed the hour and played a long loud melody. The three sat in silence, listening to it carefully to count the chimes of the hour. When the sound finally ceased, Francis snapped the book closed and slid it over to Matthew slowly. Alfred watched with a sharp but momentary look of jealousy before quickly cooling back down and letting Matthew take the book hesitantly without protest.  
”It is time for me to return to my own studies. You two may continue reading about the bears if you would like, but do not forget to do your worksheets—Oh! Alfred,” Francis stopped suddenly as he was standing, pulling his hair out of its ribbon and retying it swiftly.  
”Do try not to get into any trouble. Your daemon speaks to you for a reason you know. Take care, little ones!” And with that Francis went sweeping from the room quickly, robes half pulled back on as he left and Britainny loping along after as the door was closed. The second the two were sure the older man was gone, they turned to one another. Alfred already had a mischievous grin in place on his face, and Matthew wasn’t sure what to do other than open and close his mouth wordlessly. Finally after several long moments of silence Matthew managed to find words to say.  
”Wow... Wow!” Alfred erupted into joyous laughter and nodded excitedly along. The laughter spread to Lysimanche, who had now taken on the form of a coyote and was pouncing around the floor energetically. As the two sprung from their seats, the book set aside and imagination taken up in arms, Ottium lept from Matthew and transformed. White fur erupted from feather and the fan-like tail shrunk to a stub as a broad set of shoulders and a large tapered head were brought straight off the pages and into the room.  
”Look, look! Doesn’t he look just like the picture of Iorek in the book, Matthew?” Alfred had to contain himself immensely to not jump forth and run his hands through Ottium’s fur. It would do no good. That kind of stuff was outlawed in the most universal of ways. It would be just wrong, but watching Matthew carding his fingers into the thick fur as Ottium gave a low short bellow was just enough to satisfy Alfred before he turned to Lysimanche expectantly. The currently canine formed daemon didn’t mimic the other’s form but rather took to swinging her haunches and pouncing on the great beast that Ottium had become. Matthew clapped his hands and gave a light trill of laughter as Ottium pretended to be wounded and fell comically to the floor with a heavy thump.  
”He does, he really does! Otti, say something Iorek would say—please, please, please!” The polar bear daemon gave a long chortling noise as he rolled around on the ground careful not to squish Lysimanche beneath his newfound girth before standing up and rearing clumsily onto his back legs, large forepaws dashing out at the empty air.  
”My name is Iorek Byrinson and I am the great king of the armored bears! All should tremble before me!” Of course this was all for dramatics, but it thrilled the two blonds beyond belief as they clapped at the performance and then dissolved into new fits of laughter over Lysimanche crawling up Ottium’s back. The fun and the games lasted for hours afterwards as the boys switched between looking in the book, avidly making up fantasies over what they were reading, and playing pretend with their daemons as stand in actors. One could say that all in all, it almost seemed like the two clicked automatically as friends. Could be on account that both had been so eager to have someone, anyone, to play around with other than themselves; some might wax philosophical and say it was meant for them to be friends.  
All in all the merriment eventually came to an end as the hours ticked by and the two boys wore one another out with their frivolity. When Francis finally found time to come back and make sure that the boys were still in the room he found that not only were they there but they were asleep. The two were huddled together in the window, leaned against one another with their daemons sitting comfortably in their laps. Francis looked to Britainny who was giving the usual cryptic smile that she was so famous for before crossing the room to go and retrieve Matthew. He wasn’t sure how to do so without waking Alfred; given Alfred slept like a log Francis ended up not having too much difficulty picking Matthew up and carrying him away. Britainny carried Ottium, who had taken the form of a black cat, in her mouth carefully seeing as Francis wasn’t allowed to touch the little boy’s daemon.  
The trip to where Matthew resided was a long one and Francis feared that the boy would wake up upon entering the cold of the dimming evening. Luckily for the lot of them the little blond merely stirred in discomfort and burrowed his face into Francis’ chest as he twisted his torso to hide from the chill. A light mist of a drizzle started to fall right as Francis made it to the building in question and he was thankful to have gotten out of it in time if not a bit bitter he would have to back out into it. At least it would make for a pretty, if not chilly, stroll back. Upon entering the building a soft chime sounded which was meant to alert the others in the place that someone had entered. Almost automatically a stout woman with graying brown hair came waddling from somewhere nearby and halted abruptly when she saw Francis, giving a little bow. Automatically her daemon, what appeared to be an Olde English Bulldogge, came trotting up to her heels and stood there staring silently at Britainny. The two adults stood in silence before Francis broke out into a smile and shook his head.  
“Mademoiselle Jovanneson,” Francis started with a playfully exasperated tone to his voice. “There is no need for the formalities! Please, come here. Alfred managed to whisk Matthew away today somehow… He is rather tired. If you would not mind putting him to bed?” Missus Jovanneson, otherwise known as Mikyla Jovanneson, was a middle aged heavy set woman with thinning hair and baggy wrinkles tugging at her face; by damn if she wasn’t one of the best women Francis had ever met. Wiping her hands on her half-off apron, Mikyla paced over to Francis with a relieved smile on her grooved face and held out her arms for Francis to pass Matthew to her. Despite her short stature and her otherwise deceiving appearance, Mikyla took hold of Matthew easily. Holding the boy to her rather flat chest she looked down at her daemon, Maximus, carefully taking Ottium from Britainny’s maw.  
Once the exchange was completed the scholar looked over Matthew once last time before reaching downward, hand finding Britainny’s head easily and running over it for reassurance. Today had definitely been an interesting day, he couldn’t deny it that. Now to see what the consequences of it all were. While Mikyla turned, starting off in the opposite direction with her daemon trotting along after her dutifully, Francis lingered a little longer before a soft noise and nudge from Britainny turned him away and he backed out into the cold. Mikyla continued on while Francis left, not even bothering to pause to wish him a final goodbye, as she had a task at hand-- Taking Matthew to bed. Which was not a difficult task in the slightest but more so one that Mikyla found herself musing over. Mikyla had always loved kids and she had served as a nanny much a time in her youth before she managed to land a spot in Oxford as a servant of the house. Long ago she’d had dreams of settling in and starting a little family but those dreams had been dashed when she found she herself could not bear children. Her husband at the time had gone off and eloped with another more fertile woman at this revelation and left Mikyla alone with a bruised heart and an empty life.  
The woman had eventually mended herself to the point she could look back on the event and firmly say to herself that she was by no means in the wrong and was not to blame for any of it. Especially not when this ex-husband’s wedding coach ended up in flames and his prized coaching horses stolen. No siree, she had absolutely nothing to do with the selling of a prized coaching horse. Nuh-uh. Not a clue what you could be referring to. So now in her later years, Mikyla sometimes liked to think that Matthew was a bit like that grandson she’d never gotten. She’d helped Francis care for the boy when he was a wee thing, just a babe, and was now in charge of keeping an eye on him now that he was older. Not that it always worked but everybody who knew Matthew knew he was a fairly mild mannered child who rarely ever got his nose stuck in the wrong kind of business. That was what they all liked about him.  
Upon arriving to Matthew’s room, which wasn’t really much of a room as more of a large closet, Mikyla sighed. This was always the hard part. She was a short woman, but not a petite one. Trying to fit into the cramped space to tuck Matthew in had always proved difficult for Mikyla though even now she did with what could be tacked off as practiced ease and shuffled her way to the cot that Matthew slept on. A rather plush blanket, swiped from a long deceased scholar’s room of all places, was the only luxury things in the entire room. It made the bed feel safer, warmer, and a lot more inviting than just the thin mattress and equally thin sheets and flimsy pillow. Setting Matthew down slowly Mikyla pulled the blanket up to his chest and ran a hand over his hair with a smile. While she did do, Maximus propped his front paws upon the edge of the cot and settled Ottium down by the still snoozing blond carefully, making sure not to accidentally nose him while he pushed the sleeping daemon closer to their human.  
“Sweet dreams, little one.” Mikyla murmured before she turned carefully and exited the room. Maximus followed silently after her, not wishing to disturb anybody with his barking. Once out of the room and having closed the door Mikyla finally fully removed her apron and slung it over her shoulder with a deep long yawn that Maximus mirrored not too soon afterwards. She cast a humored look down at her daemon and started on her way to her own chambers while enjoying the quietness of the building. On the way there she passed by a few of the other servants making their own last few chores up or wandering around in their night clothes with glasses of water or wringing their nightcaps in their hands. It was no wonder some would find themselves sleepless. The great politician and warrior Lord Kirkland would be making home to Oxford soon and he had insisted on coming to the college to check upon his young nephew and to speak with the scholars of some sort of important matters. Mikyla cared not for it. She was a simpleton with no mind for the high arts such as science after all.  
Finally making it to her own quarters the aging woman found herself disrobing absently and slowly putting on her nightgown without really paying too much mind to the whole process. Maximus went to get comfortable, leaping up and onto the bed and circling into his usual spot where he knew his partner would soon be resting as well. Watching her daemon as she righted her gown collar, Mikyla had to wonder to herself despite all previous thoughts as to what Lord Kirkland had discovered now. It was likely something important as always; there were no small discoveries when it came to that man. Finally slipping into her bed, Mikyla Jovanneson threw an arm over her daemon and buried her face into his fur with a deep exhale. Whatever was to come would come, she thought in her last few moments of wakefulness. And it would come.


	2. Leaps and Bounds

The dawn of a new day brought warmer weather and clear skies for the city of Oxford and all its residents. The sounds of the fresh spring kept the air buzzing and alive even in the early hours when the people were first awakening, daemons curled up or nestled nearby. The peeking glance of Eos on the horizon was quick to alight upon the silvery remnant of the rapidly evaporating dew, creeping through the streets shyly before She went leaping Her way through windows and shedding light across the doorways of all She could reach. Helios ran at Her heels, quickly bringing in the rising sun.  
Somewhere buried away from the prancing light was Matthew, blanket pulled up over his head despite the solid darkness enveloping his tiny room. Ottium, besides his human, was stirring despite the sleep tugging on his eyelids. Blinking slowly to wakefulness the daemon heaved a loud yawn and started to pull himself out of bed. Paw pads landing on the floor with a muffled thump, the currently feline daemon stretched his stiffened muscles and looked around the dark room. His daemon’s awakened state influenced his own sleep status; Matthew started to stir in slight aggravation at being forced awake and patted around the bed for Ottium. Snickering slightly, the cat sat back on his haunches and wrapped his tail over his front paws.  
“Matthew! Hey, listen! Wake up, sleeping beauty.” Ottium meowed in a shrill pitch with his whiskers twitching as Matthew started to waken, stubbornly staying under his blanket. Ottium knew why he was being so reluctant of course. The young boy had slept a little too much last night and was feeling off kilter at the moment. All the same Ottium continued to try and encourage his human to get up and get moving as they definitely had chores to do. Not to mention the paper that Francis had given Matthew to do as homework had ended up abandoned on the floor of Alfred’s room; neither of them knew about that yet. Meowing wordlessly now, quickly padding over and hopping upon the bed and onto Matthew, Ottium jostled Matthew around and forced him to get up. This prompted a low moan of reluctance to warble from the little blond’s throat as he slowly started to slide from the blanket and stumble his way to the door.  
Opening the door let in the flood of light that had since come to illuminate the rest of the building, making Matthew squint his eyes shut against the offense and turn away with a grumble. Ottium merely pounced out into the morning as he morphed from his feline form into long platinum grey ferret and turned tight circles there on the floor as Matthew wandered back into his room. Stripping himself sluggishly of his dirtied and wrinkled clothing the boy let a yawn find its way from his mouth, arms stretching up as he smacked his lips slightly. He was incredibly hungry, for well enough reasons, and could smell some form of breakfast being made already. This was what finally managed to spur the boy into action as Ottium chattered impatiently and chided at him to hurry up. Throwing on a simple cotton t-shirt and a pair of dark brown shorts with long socks and loafers, Matthew ran his fingers through his hair and tugged out the tangled in it. Several snags made him wince a bit, but by the time he had finally made it to the kitchen the boy’s mouth was watering and he could hardly care less about the dull ache of his scalp when faced with the scent of sizzling meat and baking biscuits.  
Making his way through the bustle of people in the kitchen, Matthew made to grab his apron from the rack they were all kept. Upon Matthew putting on his apron Ottium jumped into the air and morphed into a sparrow before diving into the pocket of his apron in the form of spotted white and brown rat, his tail peeking out of it. Giving the now Ottium filled pocket a gentle pat Matthew carried on his way to his first station of the day. As he made to the sink where he would be washing the last bit of last night’s dinner dishes Matthew greeted the people he passed by with a good morning and how do you do. Each came with a smile and a pleasant response to which Matthew would smile in return and say that this was good news to hear. Arriving at the sink, the blond boy stooped down and reached an arm under the raised basin to fish out the stool that had been shoved under there, tugging it out and getting back up before stepping onto it. Recently he had grown a bit, but he was still a bit too short for some things which never ceased to aggravate him. It was then, as Matthew stood on tip toes to turn the water on that he thought on something he hadn’t expected. Alfred would probably be able to reach these things. The thought of Alfred made Matthew pause in his work.  
It almost seemed like yesterday had been too good to be true in retrospect but Matthew knew that what had happened was no dream and that made a smile creep up on his face. Ottium shifted in Matthew’s pocket, turning himself right-side up and peeking from the depth of the pocket to watch others and their daemons pass by while Matthew finally took up a sponge and rubbed a bar of soap across it before he started on cleaning the dishes. By the time he would be done breakfast would have been finished and dished out to those who had the time and the appetite to eat it—which of course most did. The dish that had been prepared was ground beef in a thick white gravy with a healthy dose of salt and pepper in it served over freshly buttered biscuits and, coupled with a glass of fresh milk, Matthew got himself a heaping bowl full of it to eat for his breakfast.  
Matthew sat by Mikyla when he ate his breakfast, a young man on the other side of him at the table. His daemon, a large golden dog with long fur and flopping ears, sat in her own chair with her paws on the table. Occasionally the man, formally named Riley Stein, would pass over a bit of gravy soaked biscuit to his daemon and give her a pat on the head. Ottium had crept out onto the table while Matthew ate and watched the spectacle with interest as the pair would sit in silence, cast glances to one another, and then burst into poorly contained giggles. It was not long before Matthew had finished his food completely which surprised most of the others with the fact he had managed to eat so much. Quickly dismissing himself after washing and drying his own dishes the little blond made his way first to the washrooms to clean up and then to the coat room where he plucked up his blue jacket, just in case, before slipping out the door before anybody could question on where he was going.  
The second Matthew made it to the bottom of the small flight of stairs leading up to the building he resided in he started to run. The sky was a bright blaze of unreal blue and the usually dreary backdrop of Jordan College was currently illuminated with much needed sunlight that brought out the color and life of everything it touched. It brought a strong pull of joy to the child’s heart as he smiled beside himself. Wind whipping at his face and hair as he sprinted, Matthew felt Ottium shift into the form of a young colt and start to dash ahead. The sight of chestnut with white stockings prancing around in the open field made Matthew laugh as he called out to his daemon with an inquiry to ride. Ottium stopped and stood in place, thinking over this and if he could physically carry Matthew or not. After several long moments of thought Ottium’s train of thought was interrupted by his partner climbing onto him with no real warning. Luckily for the both of them the currently equine daemon was just strong enough to do the deed and as Matthew knit his fingers into Ottium’s mane the daemon started off to a canter. They both knew where they were going but out here in the open air and the sunlight it was hard to keep track of tasks and ideas.  
Ottium spun round in circles, kicked his legs about, and went jumping over small make shift hurdles like flowerbeds and low curbs. It was a good while later than the two expected that they finally made it to the other building where Matthew could only guess he would be finding Alfred. Hopping off Ottium’s back with a small stumble the young boy righted himself and made to straighten his hair out a before entering the building. Once he deemed himself ready, Matthew turned to Ottium who had taken the form of a small wyvern and was now hovering beside him. The reptilian fire-spitter blew several rings of smoke in his happiness and lighted upon Matthew’s shoulder, hooked wings gripping into his clothing as he perched and kept himself securely on the boy.  
“Do you think he’s awake?” Matthew suddenly questioned, toying with the cuffs of his sleeves due to his jittery nerves. Ottium nipped his ear lightly and Matthew twitched a bit at the hot air blown into it.  
“We won’t know if we don’t go check! Come on, let’s go!” And without second guessing Matthew, with some difficulty, opened the front door and went to retrace the steps that had been taken yesterday. A couple of mistaken steps were called out by Ottium as Matthew made with haste to arrive where he could only hope where his new friend would be. Upon arriving to the staircases Matthew knew he was getting closer and with a deep breath tested himself, taking the stairs a little faster than yesterday. Ottium flew in the air at his side, urging him to keep going even as his breath started to leave him. No scholars hung around to stare and make snide remarks, which was probably due to the fact that most were either asleep because of rigorous study the night before or were already to their books and lectures after a short but filling breakfast.  
The stairs were scaled with only a few slips but no slides and by the time Matthew made it to the top he was panting quite heavily, a hand holding his chest as he swallowed dryly and looked to Ottium. His daemon gave a pleased chirping noise and flipped in the air, wings beating the air languidly as the little dragon swooped around. Once the blond had regained enough of himself to continue on he spent no time lollygagging and carefully went to go indentify the room that Alfred had led him to the other day. He had to recount the doors several times over and at some point ended up accidentally entering a room where a scholar was sleeping, his small owl daemon slumbering on a perch near the bed. Matthew didn’t linger there, feeling embarrassed that he had invaded on somebody else’s personal space like that, and quickly scrambled away. Feeling a bit disheartened due to his struggles with finding Alfred’s room Matthew almost gave up and concluded that maybe he would run into Alfred later; it was then that Ottium nudged him and flew in the direction of a door that Matthew had to have passed by several times over. On the door were a couple of poorly painted over pencil marks and several nicks.  
Looking at his daemon with uncertainty the boy arched an eyebrow. The wyvern, currently struggling to hang on the wooden door, merely gave a silent assurance with a nod of his head. At last Matthew tentatively knocked on the door only to be met by silence. Now entirely unsure of what to do, the blond looked to his daemon for advice. In a soft voice Ottium answered Matthew’s silent plea.  
“Open the door! I promise this is the one.” Taking a deep breath the boy decided that he had really nothing to lose so… why not? Grasping the door handle tightly Matthew quietly turned it and pushed the door open slowly. The room was already completely lit up, the window curtains drawn back and lo-n-behold there was Alfred. The boy appeared to have made some kind of effort to get out of bed, whether by choice or force was up for debate. He was currently sprawled across the bed half clothed in daywear and the other half in vaguely loosened nightwear. Sprawled over the bed next to Alfred was Lysimanche who was occupying the shape of a bear cub. Matthew sat listening to the soft snores coming from Alfred and his daemon, both of which had fallen asleep on their backs, and suppressed a small laugh when Alfred snorted in his sleep. As Ottium landed on top of Matthew’s head the young blond started to creep towards the bed with a smile on his face. The older of the two boys stirred unexpectedly with a groan but did not waken, nor did his daemon. Making it to the side of the bed Matthew peered at Alfred silently.  
Alfred was now turned on his side slight, a small dribble of dried drool crusted at the corner of his mouth and eyes closed shut tightly as his grip on sleep started to edge away. His hair was sticking up in strange places and some of it was plastered to his skin. After staring for several moments, Matthew finally reached out and nudged Alfred gently. This did nothing and Matthew repeated the action a bit harder, whispering to the other boy. Ottium rustled around on Matthew’s head while the blond tried harder still to waken Alfred. Francis’ previous thoughts would prove true. Alfred really did sleep like a log. Raising the dead might’ve been easier than this was. With one final rough shove Alfred was woken up and promptly started to operate on autopilot, spluttering and trying to focus on Matthew. He chattered something out about getting up now and yeah he did his work and then stumbled out of bed. Matthew watched the older boy in humor as he shook his daemon awake and shucked off his shirt and rushed to his dresser to put on a clean one. Finally, while Alfred was struggling to put his shoes on and Lysimanche was finally crawling out of bed, Matthew laughed and called out to him.  
“Alfred! Alfred, it’s just me! Matthew.” Stopping dead where he was Alfred finally looked up at Matthew and blinked rapidly before stopping what he had been doing and grinning widely.  
“Matthew, hey! Sorry, wow—I guess I mistook you for Sir Bonnefoy coming to wake me up again...” Matthew shook his head and smiled back at the older boy, wringing his sleeve ends in his hands absently while Ottium hopped off his head and went spiraling down to Lysimanche and started to tug on the bear cubs ears good-heartedly.  
“No, no, I’m sorry. I just wanted to know if you could… could maybe come play with me.” Alfred jumped up almost immediately, surprising Matthew. In contrast, Lysimanche batted Ottium down and pinned the dragon to the bed with a playful snarl. Matthew tilted his head at Alfred minutely as the other stretched and then came walking over.  
“Yeah, I’d love to actually! Wait,” Alfred stopped suddenly a couple feet away from Matthew and clasped his hands over his stomach as it gave a low growling sound out of nowhere. Matthew stared at Alfred blankly before slapping a hand over his mouth and laughing into it. Lysimanche, who had released Ottium after the little dragon bopped her on the nose, now meandered her way over to Alfred and head-butted his leg gently.  
“Hungry?” Matthew inquired jokingly, cocking his head to the side minutely with the questions. Alfred smiled back and arched his eyebrows up.  
“Yeah, just a bit... I think breakfast is over though so I’m out of luck. Say, what game did you want to play?” Matthew stopped Alfred there, closing the space between the two and grabbing the older boy by his hand. Alfred seemed a bit surprised at the gesture but didn’t pull away and rather let Matthew start to gently lead him away while Lysimanche grumbled and barged past Matthew’s legs as if she wished to be in the front of the line. Ottium merely fell behind Alfred.  
“I know where to get you food, no worries. I’m sure they won’t mind since you’re so important and all.”  
“Did you say I was important?” Alfred parried back while trying to make sure he heard Matthew correctly, curiosity piping up through his voice. Matthew slowed to a stop and looked back at Alfred. Truthfulness written plainly across his face and lacing itself into his voice, the little blond nodded solemnly.  
“Yeah… Your uncle is the Lord Kirkland, right? I remember you mentioned it yesterday… That means you’re pretty important, don’t you think?” And with that clear proclamation, which gave Alfred a bit to think over while he followed Matthew, the two continued on with a faster pace in a surprising bout of quietness. When Alfred realized that Matthew was leading him out of the building he quickly went back to normal and perked up. Tugging Matthew’s hand the older boy looked down at his companion as Lysimanche skidded to a stop in front of them.  
“Are we going to see your place? You said you work in the kitchens and stuff right? And because you don’t live in this building that means you live in another one—we’re going to that one now, right?” Matthew nodded along as Alfred spoke, nibbling at a bit of deadened skin that was clinging to his lip as he did so. Alfred seemed almost unreasonably excited to see the other building given he knew full well that Matthew was technically just a butler-in-training. What was there that could possibly be exciting about where they were going other than the fact he was getting food? Matthew could not imagine the reasoning.  
“Great-- Come on then lead the way. I’m starving!” Lysimanche seemed reluctant to be following instead of playing leader but fell back behind by Alfred’s heels while Ottium wheeled up in the air above Matthew’s head. The ground dwelling daemon promptly fixed her sharp spiting gaze to the airborne one who paid no heed to her but rather started to fly off, careful not to dwell too far from Matthew. Slipping his hand from Alfred’s nervously, as he had started to get clammy for reasons unbeknownst to him, Matthew jogged after Ottium with the other boy in tow. He honestly didn’t want his palm to sweat all over Alfred’s; the thought grossed him out.  
Bursting out into the open air after descending the various flights of stairs and navigating the halls Alfred practically took off. He seemed to momentarily forget what it was he was outside for and simply indulged in being out in the sunlight. Matthew quickly fell behind him as the older boy jogged, and eventually started to sprint ahead. He watched with dull wonder, unsure of what it was that Alfred was doing but rather watched as Lysimanche finally changed from her lumbering bear form to that of an impressive looking golden bird of prey. The daemon quickly shot up in the air and tried the limits of her range before diving back down at a frightening pace, pulling up right before she collided with the ground, rocketing back towards Alfred as the blond rounded and waved to Matthew. It seemed he had just realized how far he had gotten away from the other boy. Matthew merely took a deep breath and started to jog after Alfred, Ottium landing on his shoulder as he pressed forward. Alfred was gracious enough to back track a bit to meet Matthew mid way.  
“Hey, come on slowpoke. We’ve got places to be, right?” Matthew almost countered that it was Alfred who was running around but held his thoughts for the time being, merely flashing a tested smile at Alfred. It wouldn’t be until later that he would admire Alfred’s ability to get drunk on nothing but the sheer feeling of freedom. For now he simply gestured out towards their final destination and caught his breath.  
“It’s that building over there. The food will end up cold by the time we get there…” Alfred didn’t give Matthew a chance to finish and rather grabbed the younger boy by the hand and started to tug him along. The little blond was forced to overexert himself, moving his legs faster than he previously thought he could in order to keep up with the longer legged Alfred’s strides. Ottium was still resting but as Matthew started to run he almost slipped off the boy’s shoulder. Several out of breath attempts to tell Alfred to slow down a bit end up sent to deaf ears as Alfred kept a step ahead of his friend and his eye on the prize. Lungs and throat burning and mouth dry, Matthew forced Alfred to a stop several yards away from the entrance to the desired building by digging his heels into the ground and coming to a dead stop. He almost fell over as Alfred ended up in a delayed halt, barely managing to stop himself before he turned and looked at Matthew. Realizing that the younger boy was ready to fall over he quickly grabbed Matthew by the shoulder to hold him upright.  
“Oh—Jeez, Matthew, are you going to be okay?” Lysimanche landed by them, peering up at them from the ground. Her sharp yellow eyes narrowed slightly she clacked her beak in humor as she spotted Ottium climbing his way up Matthew’s shirt and dragging himself on to the boy’s shoulder again. The younger boy couldn’t answer Alfred right away and he struggled to swallow his own saliva and get enough air into his body to sufficiently allow verbal responses. In the meantime he gave Alfred a weak thumbs-up and a partially strangled laugh that was meant to convey the fact he was indeed fine. Alfred didn’t buy it completely and was fine waiting for Matthew to catch his second wind. Ottium, now realizing that Lysimanche was laughing and him and Matthew, was quick to spit an ember at the other avian daemon with little regret even as the other’s feather fluffed up as she narrowly managed to avoid having her primaries set alight.  
“I—I’m okay. I’ll be okay. We’re here though, right?” Now assured that Matthew wasn’t going to pass out, Alfred’s usual cheery smile returned and he nodded along. His smile was infectious as always and Matthew found himself smiling back. Now having arrived the two boys were free to enter the building where, amid the hustle and the bustle of the people cleaning rooms and the likes, the bell signaling their entrance was not heard. Alfred seemed mystified with the whole thing, watching as several servants went from one area to the other balancing heaps of laundry while still holding a dust tray full of waste and a broom. Matthew, who was used to these sights and could do so himself, was not so enthralled but rather waved at the few people who could still see past their loads of chores being precariously carried to and fro.  
“This is where you live?” Alfred finally asked as he followed Matthew absently in the direction of the kitchen. Matthew nodded as Ottium turned on his shoulder and looked back at Alfred and Lysimanche.  
“No way, we just work here don’t you know? We live in the bush outside.” Alfred laughed at the sarcastic remark, taking it as a joke while Lysimanche simply stared at Ottium from the boy’s shoulder.  
“Funny—I didn’t think you were a joking kind of person, Ottium.” Ottium merely made some kind of indescribable noise before Matthew finally opened the doors to the kitchen, hushing his daemon effectively as he turned back to Alfred.  
“Here we are! I think they cleaned up all the breakfast sadly… There’s still plenty of stuff here; try not to pick anything that needs to be cooked. I’m not very good at that.” Alfred nodded to Matthew and slowly split from the younger boy, examining the contents of the kitchen. The place was impeccably clean even for such a big and obviously busy area and he had to give props to whoever worked here. Thinking back on it, Matthew had mentioned that he worked in the kitchens didn’t he? Grabbing an apple from a sack sitting by an island Alfred rubbed it against his shirt before taking a bite out of it, satisfied with the noise it made as he did so. Looking back Alfred saw that Matthew was simply watching him as he went about his business and for some reason the look on the other boy’s face made Alfred giggle to himself. Matthew only ended up looking confused at Alfred’s laughter in the end.  
“What’s funny?”  
“Huh?”  
“I asked, what’s funny?” Matthew repeated, speaking up this time. Alfred shrugged a bit, taking another bite from the apple he’d taken and strolling back over to Matthew casually.  
“It’s just your face.” He offered up, holding his apple out to Matthew to let the other take a bite if he so pleased. Matthew didn’t take the offer and rather shook his head as his face screwed up slightly with insult.  
“Eh? What does that mean?”  
“No offense! I just… You were making a funny face is all?”  
“Personally I think Matthew’s face is always funny.” Lysimanche interjected with a light twittering sound, not particularly being bitter but for once inputting with a friendly joke. Even Ottium snickered slightly at the eagle’s remark as Matthew made another face in response, obviously trying hard not to smile. He had accepted that Lysimanche was blunt which he could only guess meant that Alfred made an active attempt to be nice. He knew that the other boy would be quite mean and stubborn when he so pleased as that had been showcased yesterday, but it made Matthew unreasonably happy knowing that Alfred was trying to be friends.  
“What face was I making then? Can you show me?” Alfred thought over the request for several seconds before attempting to mimic the expression Matthew had had on just prior, lips pursing and quirking up and to the right as he pushed his eyebrows together, one going up and the other down, and finally narrowed his eyes a bit. Matthew automatically grinned at Alfred and laughed openly, the sound of it light and airy but still packing just as much amusement into it as a loud boisterous laugh would. Alfred couldn’t hold the expression for long as he started laughing with Matthew only to muffle the noise by taking another bite from his apple.  
“Say! I want you to show me around here. This place is actually pretty cool and there’s a ton of people here.” Matthew looked a bit surprised at the request but nodded anyways, arms already opened to catch his daemon as Ottium shifted from his form as a wyvern into a medium sized canine with long floppy ears and short fur. Lysimanche cocked her head at the display and after several moments she flew down from Alfred’s shoulder and landed on the floor in the form of a grey cygnet. Matthew ended up setting Ottium down as Alfred looked at Lysimanche in silence, probably sharing some kind of moment between one another. When Matthew nudged Alfred in the arm the blond snapped out of it and looked to him, eyebrows raised and blue eyes bright.  
“Ready? There’s a lot to see but not much of it is interesting…”  
“Are you kidding? I’m ready as ever! And come on, you’re just saying that. I promise I really want to see it all, okay? It’s like an adventure!” Matthew mulled this over, still unsure on if Alfred was going to get bored halfway through or not. He was being truthful when he said that there wasn’t much excitement to be found here; who knew—maybe Alfred was right. It would be like an adventure. They could turn it into a game or something to make it more fun if they got bored of it after all. Finally agreeing Matthew turned and started off at a brisk pace, Ottium trotting along at his side while Lysimanche waddled after the canine daemon’s tail. Alfred followed up the rear, still working on finishing off the apple while they wandered around.  
As they walked Matthew would point and gesture to rooms and other such things and explain what they were the best he could. On occasions he would point out certain people and tell Alfred who they were and when at a loss for where to go next Ottium would take up a pointing position and lead the way. In the end the two boys had since been through the kitchen and the servant’s dining hall as well as the resting quarters. On request of Alfred they ended up sneaking into the women’s wing and peeking about there before quickly making a leave when someone’s daemon, likely waiting for their human to come from just around the corner, saw them. Ottium gave them a small talking to about having done that but Alfred ended up brushing it off, obviously still very curious about it.  
“Eugh, I really hope that whoever that was doesn’t come looking for us later… there can’t be many more kids wandering around, huh?” The little incident didn’t deter their trip much in the long run as they circled around and ended up near Matthew’s room. Matthew quietly pointed it out and almost automatically Alfred changed direction to go and look past the closed door, Lysimanche quickly waddling herself after him before changing into a more convenient shape—that of a white furred cat. Matthew rushed after Alfred, meaning to tell him that his room wasn’t much to look at but it was all but too late as Alfred shoved the door open and peered into the dark room, squinting. Swallowing hard Matthew halted and stared at Alfred’s back, now unsure of what to say. When Alfred turned back around he appeared confused before finally speaking.  
“Why do you sleep in a closet?”  
“It’s not a closet, it’s a pantry!” Matthew felt a bit alarmed at the question Alfred asked, quickly choosing some other word that would maybe help make the room seem bigger; Alfred didn’t budge on his stance and shook his head.  
“No, this is a closet. Come on, why do you sleep in a closet? Isn’t a closest where you hide things? Why would you put a kid in a closet?” Matthew could feel the heat rising to his face from the embarrassment of it. Alfred did have a point now that he thought about it. The other boy had a big airy room with plenty of space and meanwhile he was sleeping somewhere that barely fit two people. Missus Jovanneson had always told him it was because of certain circumstances but now the little room just felt shameful. Not answering the older boy’s question Matthew let his gaze drift down while every so often looking up through his eyelashes at Alfred.  
“I’d think that it’s pretty strange, huh? I’ve heard stories about people who keep kids in closets, did you know?” Matthew could tell that Alfred wasn’t trying to be mean right now; his face was thoughtful as he elaborated on the topic at hand and slowly wandered into the room. There was no real hint of malice in his words but it still made the young boy’s stomach churn and eyes sting at the thought of it all  
“Really… What happens to them?”  
“Well, I’d think they stay there. Like, not always physically but…” Alfred paused as he tried to find the words to express himself. “…In a different kind of way. Like they’re real reserved and never taking risks or telling other how they feel.” With this said Alfred turned back to Matthew, the light from the open door being the only thing to illuminate him from where he was standing.  
“Say, is that why you’re so shy and stuff? And you talk quiet? Man. That must really suck…” Matthew opened his mouth to object only to find himself holding his tongue which alarmed him more than it really should have and just upset him. Pursing his lips together as his eyebrows dipped down the little blond shook his head with sure insistence.  
“No, I’m just like that because I’m me. Mister Francis says I’m a good kid because I don’t talk much and listen well… So, I don’t think it’s a bad thing.” Alfred thought over what Matthew had said before casually placing himself on the other’s bed and petting Lysimanche as she jumped up with him and started to snuffle around the bedding.  
“Really? But don’t you ever worry that people will just walk all over you?”  
“No?...” At this Alfred made a face and shook his head in turn. This was obviously not the answer he had been looking for; after a moment Alfred stood up and walked back to Matthew.  
“Well I still don’t like that you sleep in a closet. It seems mean to me-- My room is really big and yours is small and I don’t think that’s fair, you know? Oh well… Anyways, is this the last stop? I want to go back outside.” Matthew nodded slowly, looking at Alfred still in a bit of a daze. He couldn’t say he found Alfred’s thoughts repulsive or something he didn’t like. In all honesty Matthew was more curious as to why the other boy thought that way than anything. It scrambled his brain a bit trying to understand but in a way he kind of liked it. Being able to think on something and not be pressed to come up with a conclusion about it; Alfred didn’t mind much that Matthew didn’t understand.  
“Woof, okay, good. That was way too serious for my taste, and I have a feeling the gardens are going to be really nice today—let’s go!” Matthew was almost grateful for the shift in mood, reaching out his hand expectantly to Alfred who glanced from the younger boy’s out stretched hand before looking at him and letting a smile creep across his previously grim and aggravated face before taking hold of Matthew’s hand. Exiting the room together the two children started their way out of the building slower than they had going in. Lysimanche had once more taken up a spot on Alfred’s shoulder in the form of another avian and currently had the stem of Alfred’s finished apple clamped in her beak. Ottium fell back by Matthew’s heels and trotted along after while they walked. Eventually Matthew started to talk.  
“Alfred?”  
“Huh?” The older boy looked down at Matthew with his eyebrows raised and lips quirked to the right minutely. The younger stared at him for several moments before finally snapping back to reality and clearing his throat.  
“I was just wondering…” Several questions floated through Matthew’s head and dribbled onto his tongue before bouncing off his teeth. He didn’t want to stay down and keep talking about their previous conversation. In the end the first thing that came to mind was what tumbled from Matthew’s lips.  
“What’s your favorite color?” That question was simple and a decent conversational starter. Alfred was quick to answer, body lurching with enthusiasm.  
“Blue! Like, light blue. Sort of like the sky and the color of the ocean. What about you?” Matthew nodded as Alfred spoke before looking down at their twined hands and thinking over the question.  
“I kind of like blue too, but I think my favorite is dark blue. Like the night kind of.”  
“The night sky is black, dummy.”  
“No, it really isn’t, I promise! When the sun goes down I’ll prove it to you.” Alfred laughed at Matthew’s claim, swinging their hands as he walked. It was an unrestrained laugh that showed the true amusement felt that the night sky could be something other than black. After all, why else would you color the night sky black in a picture if it wasn’t really black? The short blond made a face halfway between a smile and a sneer, giving Alfred’s hand a squeeze as he bumped his shoulder into the older boy’s arm.  
“It’s true you know. I wouldn’t lie about it.”  
“I’ll just take your word for it, alright? You are pretty smart, so maybe you really are right! But say, why do you like such a dark color? Don’t you think something brighter would be nicer? Like yellow!” As the two went out the front door of the building Lysimanche finally dropped the apple core and butted into the conversation.  
“It’s because he’s a drab person, obviously! Or maybe he’s just trying to be cool—all dark and mysterious because he likes the night and stuff.” Ottium saw his cue now and slapped a comment back Lysimanche’s way.  
“Or maybe it’s just because it’s a nice color! I’d think it’d be a bit typical of someone who’s daemon is always a bird to like the color of the sky, huh?” Alfred and Matthew alike looked from the other’s daemon to their own before back to one another. By the time their eyes met they were both trying to suppress laughter, amused at the back and forth banter of their other halves. Lysimanche’s dark brown feathers merely fluffed up with embarrassment as Ottium gave a wolfish grin at his victory over the haughty daemon.  
“I can’t think of you as someone who’s very cool and mysterious, Matthew.”  
“Really? How come? Am I really that plain?”  
“Oh, come on! Have some bite! Don’t you want to be cool and mysterious?” Matthew nibbled at the skin of his lips, mind racing to come up with a reply to what Alfred had said. With his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed slightly he finally responded.  
“Well, I’d think that it’d be weird! I’m too small to be cool and mysterious. Your uncle is cool and mysterious though, right? Would that make me like him if I was?” Alfred swayed against Matthew with a long drawn out groan.  
“Man, I wish you didn’t know about him! He really is cool I guess and mysterious to boot… but he’s also just scary sometimes! You’d know if you met him!” Alfred whined this, kicking the dirt under his feet as he tipped his head back and stared up into the endless blue expanse of the morning sky. It made his vision swim slightly with the vastness of it. Matthew broke into his wandering thoughts with a soft laugh.  
“Is that so? Does being cool and mysterious mean you have to be scary? I think Mister Francis is cool and he is sort of mysterious…”  
“Have you ever seen him mad? Trust me, he’s pretty scary!” Matthew looked shocked at this, blue lavender eyes widening with the notion that his caretaker could ever be scary. His free hand came up to tug on Alfred’s sleeve as he stood on his toes.  
“No way! I’ve never seen him mad, no. Is he really scary when he’s upset?” Alfred looked down at his walking companion and nodded furiously, lips pressed together in a line as his brows came together.  
“His eyes get all hard, like stone, and he raises his voice and everything. It’s his daemon that really completes it though! She bares her teeth and growls and stuff. And then they come at you and your bones go all to jelly—not like that happened to me though! I mean, he’s scary to others but I don’t think it’s that bad.” Lysimanche nodded as if to back this statement up; Matthew knew from experience that even if Alfred could keep up a good act his daemon did fear Britainny if only a bit. Instead of pointing this out Matthew smiled silently to himself, teeth flashing white between his pink lips, and released Alfred’s sleeve as he fell back to the flat of his feet.  
“I think I’d cry if Mister Francis ever yelled at me. I’m glad he doesn’t.”  
“Well, if he ever yelled at you it’d be for no reason! I’d be pretty mad if he yelled at you because you’re way too good to be yelling at.” Alfred came to a halt then and Matthew stopped with him, vaguely feeling Ottium bump into his leg from the abrupt stop. The older boy gestured to the garden several yard away still and released Matthew’s hand.  
“There, see, we’re here! You want to race the rest of the way there?” Matthew didn’t get a chance to answer before Alfred went tearing away, kicking up dust with his first few powerful kicks. Scrambling after him desperately Matthew found himself managing to actually get there around the same time as Alfred although the dash left his throat burning the same as earlier and his legs wobbly. Ottium arrived several paces behind Matthew and Lysimanche lighted back onto Alfred’s shoulder after practically falling off when the boy suddenly broke into a sprint. Alfred, who was barely out of breath and had only the barest traces of a rose flush to the apples of his cheeks, clapped a hand on Matthew’s back and laugh out loud once more.  
“Hey, you did better this time! We should race more often, although I’m sure I’ll beat you every time. It’d be good practice though.” Matthew swallowed hard and shoved at the older boy’s chest with a huff. It didn’t do much to Alfred but with the gesture a look came on his face that Matthew wasn’t sure how to respond to. It slowly melted into a mischievous grin, a certain kind of twinkle appearing in the boy’s blue eyes as he took a step away from Matthew. Lysimanche was in on it automatically, dropping from Alfred’s shoulder and landing in the form of a scruffy looking canine with one ear flopped over. It was the second that Matthew opened his mouth to question what Alfred was doing when Lysimanche pounced on Ottium and the taller blond rushed him. With a short abrupt cry of surprise Matthew was tugged to the ground, Alfred turning so he landed on his back with Matthew tucked to his chest before rolling over to loom over the boy.  
“Got’cha!”  
“No fair!” Matthew tried to turn the two of them back over but Alfred grabbed one of his wrists and held it back over the boy’s head with a laugh. To the side of them Ottium was rolling in the dirt with Lysimanche hanging on for dear life. Using his free hand Matthew reached over and started to poke Alfred in the sides which prompted an almost immediate reaction of the blond gasping and then laughing as he was forced to let go of Matthew’s trapped hand to protect his weak spot from the younger’s fingers. Of course this left him wide open and the smaller of the two managed to throw Alfred’s weight and flip them both over. Sitting on Alfred’s stomach, his hands on the boy’s shoulders, Matthew smiled.  
“Hmph— who has who again?”  
“Unfair advantage; you tickled me, so that means you’re out.” Before Matthew could protest Alfred was flipping the both of them back over, hands going down to the other blond’s sides as he tried to tickle Matthew. It was only half successful as the second he started to tickle the other boy he was met with intense squirming and a hand that pushed his face away. In the end Alfred fell back away from Matthew, quite literally, and just laughed as the pink faced boy struggled to sit up from his position on the ground. When Matthew tugged on his leg, Alfred used a foot to gently push him away before laughing at the indignation that was clear on the other boy’s face.  
“That was cheating! You tickled me back!”  
“Only because you tickled me first, duh.” Unable to find a way to combat Alfred’s reasoning, Matthew simply huffed and tried to not smile back at Alfred who was grinning away, eyes narrowed with humor. It was then that Lysimanche and Ottium finally stopped rolling about, the former pinning the latter down into the ground triumphantly. Watching Alfred pick himself back up Matthew pulled his knees to his chest and let his fingers curl into the compressed dirt beneath him. The older boy went about dusting himself off but didn’t do much but rub the dirt further into his clothes and smear it onto his face. Realizing Matthew was still on the ground Alfred offered up a hand to help him up.  
“Hey, if it makes you feel better I’ll let you win next time. Maybe.” Giving Alfred an unimpressed look, Matthew took the other blond’s hand and let Alfred help him up. He pat himself down, careful to avoid the mistakes that Alfred had made as to not smudge the dirt into his clothes, and then smoothed down his hair. Right as Matthew had fixed his hair there was another hand there tussling it up again and when the child looked over to his companion he was met with a sly side look and a poor suppressed smile. Eyes narrowing at Alfred, Matthew tried again to straighten his hair out to be met with the same result. Alfred merely reached over and rustled his hair up again. Behind them Lysimanche was still toying with Ottium, chasing the other daemon in circles and nipping at his tail. Matthew hopped to his toes and reached up, attempting to ruffle Alfred hair back only to have the taller boy duck away and tease his hair even more.  
“Why do you keeping doing that? You’re making my hair all messy…” Alfred just put his hand back on Matthew’s head and ran his fingers back through the shorter boy’s hair with a smile.  
“I’m just admiring it—promise! It’s nice... I really like long hair, but my uncle insists that guys have to have short hair. I don’t know why. I mean, Sir Bonnefoy has long hair and nobody gripes about it.” Lysimanche butted in then as Ottium streaked over to the two boys and hid behind Matthew’s legs to escape the other daemon.  
“Long hair is cool and Lord Kirkland doesn’t like it because he can’t have it I bet.”  
“Plenty of girls have long hair. All the maids do at least.” Ottium added in helpfully, eyeing Alfred strangely.  
“Say, I’ve seen a lot of the maids with braids—can you braid your hair?” Matthew stared at Alfred blankly before slowly reaching a hand up to gently push the boy’s hands away from his hair as he straightened it out and tugged at the ends to test how long it was.  
“I don’t think I can… I know I can pull it back though. “  
“Can I see?” Giving Alfred a slightly confused look Matthew brought his hands back as he carefully bunched up the gentle curls and pulled the whole mass of blonde into a short ponytail, his bangs falling back over his forehead and into his eyes despite his attempt to pin them back with the rest of the hair. Alfred seemed pleased with this, nodding as he gazed at Matthew with a sort of calculating quality to his expression. Matthew released his hair back down at this time, shaking his head to spread it out again. Almost as soon as he did so Alfred went back to toying with the younger boy’s hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers before smoothing it all back down only to mess it back up and repeat the whole process. Matthew wasn’t entirely sure how to react to the situation and was only thankful that Alfred wasn’t tugging on it or something equally as painful. He could deal with the gentle tussling.  
“Are you going to let it grow out any longer?” The older boy finally questioned.  
“I’m not sure, really. I hadn’t thought of it actually.” Alfred nodded to this in understanding before finally releasing the younger child’s hair and looking back to the gardens as if remembering the reason they had come here in the first place. Turning on his heels, the older of the two started the stride into the trimmed and kept display of flowers and other assorted plants with his daemon trotting along at his side. Matthew followed, Ottium butting his head at the back of the boys legs occasionally.  
“You were right,” Matthew murmured after several dragging minutes of idled chatter between the two of them. Alfred leaned down with traces of confusion painting his expression to which Matthew repeated himself, louder now.  
“You were right, Alfred. The garden is really nice today—thank you for suggesting we come here.” Alfred stared at Matthew, blinking repeatedly in silence before laughing lightly and cocking his head to the side as he raised an eyebrow at his companion.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you talk old? You sound like an old lady sometimes! It’s sort of funny, but also really weird.”  
“I… I do? I mean, it would make sense… When you think about it.”  
“Because you hang out with a bunch of oldies?”  
“Not all of them are old, obviously.”  
“They’re ancient! But hey-- it’s cool that there are so many little things about you to notice like that, right? I wish I had little things like that.”  
“But don’t you?” Matthew’s words made Alfred pause in his speech, the boy slowly moving to a bench by a thicket of tulips. Lysimanche propped her front paws up on the retaining wall separating the tulips potting soil from the dried compacted earth of the trail and stuffed her nose into the flowers curiously. Ottium crept over, watching the other daemon while Matthew moved over to sit by Alfred.  
“You think so?”  
“Well, yeah. Everybody has little things… Mister Francis has a collection of ribbons he ties his hair back in, Mister Riley is always carrying around cookies and stuff to munch on and no matter what he always shares with his daemon. And Missus Mikyla? When she laughs she almost sounds like she’s barking! Maybe I haven’t been paying enough attention to notice your little things…”  
“Ha, that’s okay! Really though. And who are those people you mentioned? Are they the oldies you hang out with back in your building?”  
“Mister Riley isn’t that old, Alfred!”  
“No way, he’s probably older than all of Oxford.”  
“Impossible.”  
“Not if he’s… a vampire!” Matthew jolted slightly as Alfred abruptly moved closer to him, hands moving back as he redistributed his weight to keep himself from falling backwards.  
“A what? That sounds like something you made up.” Alfred laughed as the younger boy’s skepticisms and shook his head as he leaned further forward towards Matthew, a smug look on his face knowing that he knew something the other boy didn’t.  
“Nuh-uh, they’re totally real. They’re monsters too! They’re people who died and came back to life, and they’ve got loooong fangs and claws.” When Matthew didn’t say anything, instead opting to move backwards until his back hit the arm rest of the bench, Alfred continued.  
“They go creeping around at night, charming people. And they move really fast and they’re super strong! And then you know what they do to those who get too close?”  
“Wh… What do they do?” The younger boy’s reply came in a hushed tone, barely audible.  
“They suck out all their blood!”  
“That’s terrible!” Alfred burst out laughing as Matthew gave a squeal of fear and shook violently at the thought of something sucking blood as his hands went flying to his face. Ottium jumped up into his lap quite suddenly even as he was pulling his legs up and started to lick the boys face in an effort to comfort him.  
“Hey, hey! There’s no need to be scared!” Alfred scooted farther over and set a hand on Matthew’s knee, seeing at the boy was genuinely upset over what Alfred had told him.  
“Mister Riley isn’t a vampire, he can’t be okay!”  
“Shhh—there are plenty of ways to tell if a person is a vampire or not! Does he go out in the sun? Because that’s the number one way you know he’s not a vampire. Vampires can only come out at night or else they turn to dust—they sleep all day in their coffins and stuff.” Matthew peeked through his fingers at Alfred when he said this, seeming at least a bit relieved at the idea that Riley Stein couldn’t be a vampire. He had seen the man just that morning after all.  
“But… What happens if one comes after you?”  
“Well… In your case you’ve got me! I know all the tricks and trips on fighting baddies—vampires included.” At this the older boy gave a wink, grin wide and tone light. Matthew finally lowered his hands, petting Ottium for a sense of assurance as he let his daemon rest his head on his chest. Alfred sat back then as Lysimanche finally morphed back into a form she was more accustomed to and went to perch upon her companion’s shoulder.  
“You just said they’re super strong though—how would you be able to stop one?” Matthew had his doubts about Alfred’s boastfulness and as the other boy pursed his lips in a pout it was obvious he felt a bit rejected by Matthew’s inquiry.  
“With a cross and some church water, obviously. They hate that kind of stuff. Plus they can’t come in your room unless you let them in—with like special permission and stuff.”  
“Where did you even learn this all from?”  
“Er—books?” A suspicious frown crept onto Matthew’s face as his eyebrows rose up at the answer. Alfred made a face back at him and then reached out to bop the boy on the nose. Matthew blew air from his nose quickly at the sensation and scrunched his face up while Alfred flashed another smile.  
“Whatever! It doesn’t matter if you believe about it or not but you’ll see when a vampire creeps up to your door and asks to come inside. Remember to say no, alright?”  
“Blah blah—stop talking about it already.”  
“Haha! Alright, fine!” Dropping the subject, Alfred leaned farther towards Matthew, making the boy duck with an attempt to cover Ottium from his touch, and then plucked a tulip from the flowerbed behind the younger child. Leaning back to sit on his heels he held the flower to Matthew. The tulip was in full bloom, its petals a pretty deep red presented in a fashion that allowed Matthew to peer into the flower itself. Right hand extended expectantly still, Alfred nudged the flower forward a bit more until Matthew finally reached out with both hands and gently took it from Alfred.  
“What’s this for?”  
“Just because. It is pretty though. Is that okay?”  
“Yeah, of course it is—hey, Alfred?”  
“Huh?”  
“Do you know how to make flower chains?” Matthew’s question seemed to stump the older boy as he raked his brain for any knowledge he had over the subject. He had never even heard the term before but honestly didn’t want to admit it. It was Lysimanche who blurted an answer out instead, inciting a slight shrivel of anger in Alfred as she told Matthew the truth of the situation. No, he didn’t even know what it was. He of course had a good idea. He was not dumb after all. The younger boy only laughed lightly and gave the older blond’s daemon a duly amused glance as he twirled the tulip between his fingers.  
“They’re ornaments made with flowers. I’ve seen some of the younger maids make them when they’re on days off. They turn them into necklaces and wreaths and even crowns. They’re really pretty and… well, there are plenty of flowers around.” Alfred blinked silently before nodding enthusiastically, a grin spreading back across his face as he shifted his weight forward and clutched his own knees.  
“Those sound great! You know how to make them too, right? Can you show me?”  
“Yes, I do; I guess I can show you how to make them yeah! What flowers do you want?” Matthew moved his legs about, careful to not kick Alfred as he did so, and watched the other blond as he looked around wildly for a flower he deemed suitable for the chain making. The tulips would have done but the second Alfred’s eye landed on a thickly populated plot of daisies he knew what he wanted and was quick to make sure Matthew knew so.  
“Those! The daisies. Can you make them with daisies?”  
“Of course-- come on. Help me pick them and then I can show you how to weave them together, okay?” Alfred was on his feet automatically and already strolling his way over to the chosen flowers, throwing back an affirmation to Matthew without turning. The latter looked down to Ottium with a slightly weary smile and got a long lick across the face in reply before the daemon jumped down from his lap and started off after Alfred and Lysimanche. Matthew brought up the rear, his strides long.  
When Matthew pulled up behind Alfred the other boy had already plucked several flowers while Lysimanche watched his work from his shoulder. Matthew stared at the other boy’s back for several seconds before slipping next to him and checking to see how many flowers he had picked so far. Several flowers were currently stacked on the edge of the planter already and another handful were set down on top of that as Alfred cast a sidelong glance to Matthew, checking nonverbally if he had picked enough flowers. With no affirmative response he continued plucking the daisies until the other boy finally gave a quick and quiet ‘enough’.  
The two both took a seat upon the ground by the planter, not paying much mind to the dirt getting on their trousers. Matthew leaned across to grab several of the flowers having been picked and held one up to Alfred, face serious.  
“So, here’s how you do it. Just pay close attention, alright?” Alfred nodded slowly and shifted so he could watch Matthew properly. The younger blond then quietly went to work, easily bending the stalks of the flowers and carefully braiding the blossoms together. Ottium casually rested his head on Matthew’s leg as the boy continued adding flowers into the growing chain. While he did all of this he made sure to curve the stalks as he braided them and in time had managed to transform the whole thing into a ring, the flower heads facing out. Alfred, who had been utterly silent the entire time, looked vaguely confused at how point A had gotten to point C but said nothing as Matthew tied the two ends of the ring chain together and looked the craft over critically.  
“So… is that it?” It was Lysimanche who said this, appearing to be torn between being impressed and disappointed. Matthew looked at the daemon with a small smile and a shrug.  
“You can add more things to it, I think. Like other flowers and stuff. Like…” As Alfred slowly tilted his head at this exchange Matthew took the tulip he had been given and tucked it into an opening in the chain. The red clashed harshly with the otherwise undisturbed pattern of white and yellow and with a single motion of his finger Matthew had Alfred lean down as he placed the freshly made crown on top of the boy’s head.  
“There, it’s perfect!”  
“Does it look okay?” The question was only slightly out of place with Alfred’s usual confidence as he slowly brought his hands up to touch the flowers, hesitant about doing so incase he messed something up. Matthew laughed softly at this before nodding surely and eyeing the extra flowers.  
“It looks fine, Alfred. Daisies look nice on you.” This was enough to please Alfred as he lowered his hands and nodded curtly.  
“Okay, now you pick something! It’s my turn to make one.” Matthew blinked blankly before looking around the garden. There was plenty to choose from admittedly but that was the hard part. What did he want? He would probably do best choosing a flower with a stalk that was easy to bend, if only to make it easier on Alfred. Matthew’s gaze eventually fell on several very overpopulated pots of pansies lined up one after the other according to colors. Alfred already saw where he was looking and before Matthew could say anything the older boy was making his way to the pots.  
“These? They’re pansies right?”  
“Yeah, they are. They should be pretty easy to braid together so it shouldn’t be difficult. Do you want me to help you pick them?” Alfred thought this over very briefly before nodding and turning to the flowers without saying anything more. Lysimanche took her place on the side of the pot, perching there, and watched as Alfred began to pick the colorfully patterned flowers. Matthew pulled up beside him and watched him pick them before joining in; he silently started showing Alfred how long he should try clipping the stems off at and which flowers heads he should leave be to let them grow. When the older boy finally started to attempt the braiding process the younger moved closer to watch with attentive stillness. With a bit of clumsiness, given it was Alfred’s first time braiding anything ever, a chain was made.  
Tongue peeking out between his teeth Alfred glanced up at Matthew, seeing that the other boy was engrossed in watching what he was doing, and promptly looked back down to focus on braiding the pansies together. Of course he wanted to make it nicely but it was harder than Matthew had made it look. When he did it the whole process looked smooth and easy, but keeping all the stems bundled together and avoiding the leaves was just a tab bit more challenging than Alfred had expected. Following the same curve of thee chain that he had seen the younger boy make, Alfred continued to diligently braid away in concentrated silence. Occasionally Lysimanche would twitter just to do so and Alfred could just make out Ottium lying on Matthew’s feet, seemingly very relaxed contrary to how intensely Matthew was watching Alfred. Once the chain was touching itself Alfred felt a rush of relief before realizing he had no idea how Matthew had connected to the top opposing ends. Before he, or his daemon for that matter, could say anything about it Matthew’s hands quickly grasped his own and guided him through the last step. It was then that the younger boy’s spell of intensity broke and his usual soft and deer-like expression came back. Alfred was almost dumb-founded by the sudden shift between the two modes but said nothing instead opting to merely smile slightly at the other boy who in turn flashed a small smile back.  
“Done?” Matthew asked, reaching up to tuck loose hair back behind his ear. Alfred nodded and looked over his work with a twinge of dissatisfaction  
“Sort of looks wonky…” Lysimanche flew up to Alfred’s shoulder at this point and pecked at his ear gently with an indiscernible noise that made the boy’s eyebrows lift up minutely and his eyes widen. Matthew could only tilt his head in inquiry as Ottium stirred at his feet.  
“But here, let’s put it on.” And before Matthew could answer Alfred had set the crown atop his head. It was a bit big and slide down in the back because of the loose tying but by some miracle managed to stay on. Alfred’s finger lingered in Matthew’s hair, tugging painlessly before the older blond let go and his hands returned to his sides.  
“You look really pretty.” Alfred blurted out shamelessly. Matthew wasn’t sure how to reply to this but in the end murmured a bashful ‘thank you’ that he doubted Alfred had actually heard. Lysimanche finally spoke up now after her long silence, at least to the ears of Matthew.  
“Boys are supposed to be handsome, but you sort of look like a girl anyways so I guess pretty works with you, huh?” The younger boy has a feeling this was supposed to be some kind of compliment coming from Lysimanche but Ottium quickly betrayed him by gruffly barking up in response.  
“Don’t you think you’re not in the best position to talk about what girls and boys can or can’t be?” Lysimanche chattered in slight aggravation back at the other daemon but said nothing that either Matthew or Ottium could make out that was intelligible. Whatever she had said made Alfred snort back a laugh. Matthew nudged Alfred’s chest with a quirk of his lips as the boy shared some sort of jabbering with his daemon that was nigh impossible to actually translate to coherency. Alfred quickly looked back down to Matthew and blinked as if he was remembering the boy was there. With that he nudged Matthew back in the shoulder and smiled.  
“What do you think? What’s better, pretty or handsome?”  
“I never really thought it mattered. A compliment is a compliment, right?” Matthew shrugged it off as something to not be concerned about even if he could feel his ears burning from having to talk about it. Did it really matter? Did it?  
“Okay! Good, so then it’s settled. You can be pretty and handsome—got it Lysi?”  
“Pah!” Was the avian’s only response to this as her feathers ruffled and she tucked her head under her wing in defeat. Ottium finally stood and stretched with a yawn, looking up at Matthew. With a bark he spoke.  
“We should go someplace else.”  
“Like where?” Matthew questioned in response. It was Alfred’s turn to ponder over what the two of them were talking about. Matthew glanced up at him briefly before looking back to his own daemon.  
“Like… the library. It’d be a nice change of pace. Maybe you can convince Alfred to sneak us into the Grand Scholar’s library where all the really good books are.” The suggestion was something phenomenal. Matthew, being Matthew, hadn’t even thought about something like that. He didn’t think thoughts like that often at all, really.  
“What are you thinking about, Matthew?” Alfred butt into Ottium and Matthew’s nonsensical sounding talk casually, causing Matthew to jolt slightly before regaining composure.  
“Your building has the Grand Scholar’s Library right?”  
“Uh, yeah, I think so. I don’t know—I don’t pay much attention to that stuff.”  
“Do you think you… you could take me there?” Alfred seemed surprised at the request but if he had learned anything in his short time of befriending Matthew he knew that the boy had a passion for reading. It was a skill of his in Alfred’s eyes. They had gone twice where Alfred had wanted to go so perhaps it was only fair that he take Matthew to the library now. Mulling it over the blond boy nodded and held out a hand for Matthew to take—which he did and gifted Alfred with a full smile of gratitude in return.  
They started off at a leisure pace, Alfred with his head tipped back as he stared up at the large snow white clouds that had started to meander their way through the clouds like a flock of sheep; Matthew in the mean time kept his head down staring intently at the ground beneath his feet while he walked. Lysimanche soon took flight off of Alfred’s shoulder while Ottium trotted ahead of the two boys and romped around a bit before falling solemnly back to Matthew’s side. The silence was comfortable and a couple of unintelligible words were passed between each boy and their corresponding daemon—either Alfred warning Lysimanche she was going too far or Matthew merely murmuring random things to Ottium about what the library might be like.  
Arriving to the building took less time than either of them could have guessed and before Alfred opened the door he paused and then turned to Matthew, leaning back against it.  
“Hey, I just remembered something…”  
“What is it?” It was then that Lysimanche dived down and avoided a nasty collision with Alfred by changing rapidly into the form of a sparrow and landing among the daisies still atop his head with a twittering noise.  
“There are going to be a lot of scholars in the Grand Library… You don’t suppose Sir Bonnefoy is among them, do you?” Matthew hadn’t considered this at all and looking to his daemon it seemed that Ottium hadn’t either. This could prove a lot more complicated than he thought. Brain working quickly and thoughts zipping to and fro Matthew pulled an answer from thin air, eyebrows arching up minutely and a hopeful light entering his eyes.  
“We can just sneak in then. Scholars are smart but they also don’t noticed much when they’re distracted. That’s why they don’t even jolt when the maids replace their beverages for them—They don’t pay attention to it.” Alfred seemed surprised that Matthew would suggest sneaking into anywhere. Not to mention his information on the scholars. Alfred had always found it hard to sneak anywhere when everybody and their father seemed to know you were supposed to be studying not throwing rocks at passing crows on the roof tops of the greenhouse. Maybe it was just a difference in their roles again.  
“You really think that will work? Won’t someone notice two kids with flowers slinking into a heavily occupied library?” Matthew’s face hardened with the intense expression Alfred had seen only prior and honestly the older boy could probably get used to it.  
“Of course. Just show me where it is and I’ll figure out how to get us in there. I really want to see it, Alfred. All those books… They’re from all places of the known world. Some of them weren’t even written by humans, from what I’ve heard. I’ve got to get in!” Alfred was duly surprised at Matthew‘s spurt of determination and, with an expression that, he turned and opened the doors before holding them for Matthew. The two boys entered the building with a pep in the step as Alfred led Matthew to the library quietly, careful to avoid any other areas that were thickly populated by scholars. Most of them probably were in the library at this time, either trying to find a book they needed for their studies or in search of one of the last few spots they could get to sign up for some new research expedition. The library was, in a sense, the hub of the entire college. The Grand Scholar’s Library was basically the heart of the establishment.  
The library was several levels tall and the main entrance was on the second story; when Matthew and Alfred got to the stairs the younger of the two looked confused seeing as he didn’t know this. The biggest library he’d been in was the small one where they kept all the cookbooks and other assorted hand-worker books. Many of them were merely instruction manuals. Francis was the man Matthew had to ask for more advanced books. Story books, history books, dictionaries… the list went on. He was in for a sure shock when they finally got to the Grand Scholar’s Library that was for sure.  
When they finally made it near the entrance Alfred stopped Matthew and turned to face him, leaning down slightly to whisper.  
“Okay, so do you see those really big doors over there? That’s the way in. There’s a balcony there and then the stair cases down and another up. There’s probably somebody there to make sure nobody sneaks any books out but normally they’re asleep… You got this? Like, really?” Taking his time to answer Matthew’s brain went into overdrive trying to make a layout of what the library must look like in his head. Staircases? Balconies? God, this was going to be one Hell of an adventure. Swallowing thickly the younger boy finally nodded and watched as Lysimanche slowly pushed Alfred’s crown of flowers off. The boy caught them but then carefully tucked them under his arm and Matthew followed suit, removing his own as Ottium transformed into a moth and fluttered up to rest on the collar of the younger boy’s shirt.  
This was it-- time to see how this would really work out. Matthew had always found that just by acting inconspicuous and thinking as if you were invisible that people would often pass you by without a second glance no matter what. He’d tried it out when he snuck sweets from the kitchen. At first people would look at him confused as he repeated the same thing over and over in his head like a mantra—I am not carrying sweets, I am not carrying sweets, I am not carrying sweets… And a couple times in the beginning it hadn’t worked and he had gotten a good lashing over the wrists for taking without permission. Eventually with a bit of practice with things not so coveted he’d finally gotten the hang of it. He wasn’t sure if Alfred would be able to adopt the skill quickly in this case but if all else failed at least he would have gotten in.  
So now, taking a deep breath, Matthew closed his eyes and started to think long and hard. He is not visible, he is not visible, he is not visible… The boy heard Alfred ask him something but it sounded far away before finally Alfred stopped talking altogether. When Matthew opened his eyes Alfred was staring at him, eyes glazed over and his face a mask of confusion. The older boy then slowly looked away as if looking for something else and then turned to go into the library with a small shrug. Matthew followed, slipping into the library behind Alfred. He almost gave himself away to the old man who had just fallen asleep behind the checking counter as he did so.  
The place was gigantic compared to any place that Matthew had seen. Sure, he should have guessed that Jordon would never be outdone with its preposterously high ceilings and winding passage ways and spindling rooftops so high up you’d swear they’d scrape the sky. But this... This was something else entirely. Keeping himself concentrated was hard in a setting like this. As Matthew watched Alfred go to find some form of cover so to keep himself from being seen the boy merely whispered softly to Ottium as he went to descend the staircase leading to the main floor. A couple scholars would look up from their work and look at Matthew for a couple of seconds before just looking away as if they hadn’t seen him in the first place. It was a bit of a thrill to the boy, being able to walk out in the open like this without actually being seen. He was certainly proud of his strange skill and as the young blond looked back to see Alfred narrowly miss being spotted by a book browsing man as he swooped behind a bookshelf he quietly agreed to himself that he would have to teach Alfred how to do this.  
Meandering around the library floor plan Matthew stopped by a couple of scholars he’d seen Francis speaking with before and peered at whatever they were reading or working on. One of them, a man with short cut dark brown hair and deeply tanned skin, was reading a book over agriculture and the differentiation among farming cultures across the world. Occasionally he’d move this book aside and start to write, pen held firmly in his grasp as he jot down notes. Matthew had trouble remembering the man’s name… It was something different, as the scholar had come from over the strait to this land and as Francis had told him the two of them had met while he was on some wacky adventure with Lord Kirkland himself. It secretly pleased Matthew very much that he was not the only Bonnefoy to have befriended a Kirkland.  
Moving on, Matthew caught sight of another one of the scholars Francis often lingered by. He was younger than most of the scholars in the university and certainly someone most people in the Oxford area would double-take upon seeing. Matthew distinctly remembered the young man being Francis’ apprentice of sorts—His name was Michael. For nothing could the boy remember what the teenager’s last name was. He was simply Michael. The aforementioned scholar was standing near a bookshelf that had most of its contents stripped from it. Perhaps it was a popular spot to read from? Looking for some kind of markers on the shelves Matthew almost ran right into someone else only to end up practically tripping on the occupied man’s robes.  
The young boy caught himself before he could end up face down on the hard wood floors but as consequence lost his train of thought and had his concentration broken. The result being that he was now perfectly visible to the library now. Before anybody had a chance to turn and spot him crouched over Matthew crawled to safety behind the nearest book case. What a bust. He should have guessed that something like this would happen.  
“Matthew!” A harsh whisper came from somewhere nearby and made Matthew jolt. Turning to face whoever was calling him the young blond found it was merely Alfred trying to subtly get his attention from another part of the library. He hadn’t done for good on the subtle part but he had certainly gotten the other boy’s attention that was for sure. Making sure to look both ways to check for anybody actually watching him Matthew made a mad dash across the library floor and skid to a stop by Alfred, catching himself on the other child to keep himself from sliding back into the open.  
“Jeez, where’d you even go? You were with me one second and gone the next—do you have some kind of super secret power I don’t know about, huh?” Before Alfred could blabber anymore Matthew pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him quickly. The older boy may have been trying to be quiet but he wasn’t doing much to actually muffle his voice. Alfred almost seemed insulted at the gesture but when Lysimanche sharply pecked her beak into his scalp he promptly shut up.  
“It was a trick—I’ll show you later; can you believe this place? It’s huge.” Matthew had a hard time containing his excitement while remaining near silent. Alfred just nodded along and let the younger blond enjoy himself. He’d never found much use for the library. Either because he just didn’t read, seeing as he very barely knew how, or because it required him to be quiet was anybodies’ guess. While Matthew started to trace his hands over the spines of the books behind Alfred the latter moved out of the way and peeked around the corner of the case they were creeping about. Francis was practically right there.  
Alfred couldn’t quite tell what the man was doing at the moment, as the blond had his back to the two hidden children, but Britainny was close at hand and very much turned to where if she chose to look up she would clearly be able to see Alfred. Lysimanche, for once, was insisting that they get out of this adventure and as soon as possible. Even if Alfred’s gut was agreeing with the softly twittering bird, his head surely wasn’t. Matthew was in the middle of tugging a book from the shelf when Alfred almost got himself caught by the lioness currently grooming herself from sheer boredom.  
“Hey, Matthew? Do you think we should hurry this up? Sir Bonnefoy is sort of right there and it’d be easier to not be seen if we move to the upper floors of the library.”  
“Upper… upper floors?” This caught Matthew’s attention automatically as he looked up, book open on his lap. The book was snapped shut loudly and Alfred winced at the noise while watching Matthew stuff the book back where it came from and get up off the floor.  
“Let’s go.” Before Alfred could say anything to Matthew the younger boy was tugging him along with surprising force back to the front stair case and then up said flight of stairs. He was still shocked that they hadn’t been caught yet but at the same time it was a satisfying feeling. Maybe it was some kind of insane good luck? Alfred didn’t know or find that he cared that much. He was just having fun watching Matthew going bonkers in his own little way over these books. The older boy had a feeling this wouldn’t bet the last time they would be sneaking in here.  
“Alfred, Alfred look!” Matthew’s whisper was even softer than his usual mumbling which Alfred was sure was worthy of some kind of award, so because of this he almost missed it when Matthew tugged a book out from a spot that was just a tad bit too high for him and almost went tumbling backwards. Almost. He narrowly managed to catch the younger boy and steady him, watching as Matthew’s mouth pulled into a ‘o’ of shock and his eyes went wide.  
“Whoa, close one—What’d you find?” As Matthew gained his wits about him again he quickly showed the cover of the book to Alfred who paused and stared at it dumbly before squinting and attempting to decipher what it said. It took him several moments to realize that his last name was on the front of it and automatically it all clicked together.  
“Oh no… The Grand Feats of Arthur R. Kirkland… They have a book on him!?” Matthew shushed the older blond and cracked a grin at him before snickering.  
“It’s an autobiography.”  
“What!?” Alfred didn’t seem to understand lowering his voice at this point and instead seemed mortified. Matthew was ready to burst with laughter at the other boy’s reaction towards his dear old uncle’s book.  
“I want to take it!”  
“No way!” The two boys were doing a shotty job at being discreet and the noise they were raising had already caught the attention of a couple scholars who had been in the middle of studying. Matthew shushed Alfred again as Ottium quivered with anxiety on his collar.  
“Come on, it will be fun to read—“  
“I refuse! As a Kirkland I forbid you from reading that book!”  
“Unfair usage of your surname!”  
“What even?”  
“I’m telling you no.” It was at this point that Matthew grabbed Alfred and pulled him around the corner behind another shelf just as a man coming to investigate the noise appeared. Upon finding that the place where the noise should have been coming from was empty the confused scholar resigned from his search as Matthew and Alfred took their hands off one another’s mouths. Alfred automatically opened his and tried to take the book away only to have his wrist slapped sharply and a finger pressed to his lips.  
“Shhh…” Matthew had good reason to shush the older boy this time as he listened intently. A smart move on his behalf given the two boy’s bickering had caught Francis’ attention. He was a scholar for a reason after all. He wasn’t dull and he sure as Hell knew the two boys from a crowd of deep voiced murmurs. All the man had left to do was wonder if he was merely hearing voices. Looking to Britainny with his eyebrows raised he was met with the same confusion and skepticism. It couldn’t possibly be the children. They were clever, but they weren’t masterminds. Somebody would have caught them by now. Obviously.  
When Matthew finally deemed it safe he removed his finger from Alfred’s mouth and clutched the book he had chosen to his chest. Alfred seemed entirely too insulted at having his wrist slapped like a naughty child—especially by someone he was quite sure was younger than he. Lips pursing together tightly the older boy’s blue eyes narrowed considerably at Matthew who merely stared back with a cryptic smile he’d seen far too many times from Francis.  
“Don’t be so upset about it, Alfred. Consider it an indirect form of flattery okay?”  
“Whatever. Get the rest of your non-Kirkland-related books and let’s get out of here. This is stressing me out.” Matthew merely nodded before shoving the book at Alfred who took it with confusion only to be forced to jog after the other blond as he darted off to go to the next level of the library. By the time they got to the top floor of the Grand Scholar’s Library Alfred was carrying a total of five books; even though he claimed to be strong he was definitely struggling at the moment and when the boy saw Matthew pick up a sixth book he gave a loud ‘ahem’.  
“Huh?” Matthew looked Alfred over and watched as the older boy put the books down, not minding to keep quiet now that they were so far away from the main thrum of scholar activity. Nobody was on the top floor with them at all.  
“Don’t you think this is a little much? I’m turning into a pack mule back here!” Lysimanche spoke up finally, throwing in an agreement and chattering incoherently. Matthew seemed to be struck by this realization before looking down at the book he had picked up. It was a book of short stories and poems penned under the name E.M.B. He was curious as to whom the author was and given his ever growing hunger to read it was no surprise he had picked up a variety of different books. Ottium stayed silent to both Matthew and Alfred, not even bothering to gripe back at Lysimanche for once. Making his own decision Matthew tucked the smaller book by the otherwise anonymous author under his arm and went to pick up a couple of the books he’d accumulated.  
Alfred almost seemed shocked by this, probably having assumed that Matthew would agree to the option Alfred was going to propose—putting them back –and that would be the end of the story. But he really did underestimate how much Matthew wanted these books. By the end of it Matthew was carrying the two books he could with the poetry book still tucked tightly under his arm.  
“Sorry… I’ll carry these if you carry those?” With a sigh Alfred picked the remaining three books back up and shifted his hold on the, obviously not entirely content with the set-up but not as ornery about it as he was with the previous arrangement.  
“Okay, so how do we get out of here now?” Alfred looked down at the books and back over past the railing down the floors and to the scholars still milling around. It was then the clock chimed and the whole of the library seemed to still before lurching with simultaneous movement. Scholars by the hundreds were flooding from the library and the check out man had been woken in order to fulfill his duty. This left Alfred and Matthew stranded on the top floor of the library where there were no exits available except…  
“How are we supposed to…” Matthew’s voice trailed off as he watched Alfred go from the railing to a window, head tilted in confusion and eyes narrowed. Watching the boy reach up on handedly, standing on a chair, and then popping the window open and letting it swing out, Matthew was entranced. What did Alfred think he was doing?  
“You coming?” Alfred finally asked as he started to climb out the window. Matthew felt Ottium fall from his collar and transform into a rather large bird of prey and promptly dropped the smallest of the books he was carrying. Ottium grabbed it and fluttered over to the window, waiting for Alfred to get out of the way. The young blond could feel his heart suddenly slam against his rib cage at the prospect of climbing out the window and onto the roof but in the end he found himself moving forward either way, careful to keep a grip on the books. Alfred held out a hand and helped his companion up a good way before pulling himself out the window completely and onto the roof.  
Once Matthew had managed to get himself through the window he was taken by the sights from the roof. They weren’t on the very top of the building, seeing as that was a couple more floors up, but they were very far up that was for sure. Matthew could see almost all of Oxford from here, or so he thought. He could only stare for several long moments before Alfred’s laugh jostled him back into reality.  
“Pretty great, right? Now, try to keep your footing with those books, alright? The ground is pretty far down there.” Alfred was right. Matthew didn’t even have to go peek over the edge of the rooftop to know that. It was plain to see that it was indeed a long way down from their spot on the roof top.  
“I hope you know how to get down from here…” Matthew murmured, cheeks flushing with a head rush. Alfred nodded but hesitantly which honestly didn’t help the younger child’s nerves any as he gave a nervous laugh and shifted the books in his arms. Alfred moved past Matthew and tugged the window closed behind them before finally turning back to the feat before him.  
“I’ll figure it out. From this angle we… And…” The boy was quick to fall deep into his own thoughts, muttering out loud about degrees and angles. Something that made no sense to Matthew but he could guess it was something important that had to do with them getting down from the roofs. It was then that Alfred started to creep along the shingles, seeming to still be absorbed in his thoughts. Matthew could feel his heart catching in his throat as his stomach flopped nervously.  
“You know what you’re doing?” Was all Matthew managed to get out before Alfred quite suddenly lept down from a roof, prompting a startled yell to erupt from his younger companion as said child watched the boy disappear. Scrambling over to the roof edge Matthew was ready to cry when he saw Alfred simply standing there on another roof top, grinning back at him as if he hadn’t just scared the boy bloodless. Ottium swooped down to join Alfred on the other roof and Matthew felt a small painful tug from somewhere deep in his chest as his daemon left his side.  
“What the Hell?!” It wasn’t often that Matthew would use such a phrase but in that moment it was the only thing his young mind could procure to express itself in that present moment. Alfred’s grin faltered slightly as he cocked his head at Matthew’s reaction before he called up to the other child.  
“Come on, just jump! I did the math in my head. Trust me!” Matthew stared at Alfred as if he had absolutely lost his mind. Looking to Ottium, who was stilling beating the air with his wings as he stared at Matthew from by Alfred’s side, Matthew took a deep breath and jittered anxiously. Staring down the ways between the two rooftops made his gut fall to his feet and he automatically backed up, hearing Alfred call out to him again.  
“Matthew, come on! You got to trust me—You can do it! Jump! I’ll catch you!” The young boy could only clutch the books to his chest and shake his head before attempting to temper his nerves and swallow his fear. He had to get over there somehow right? Alfred seemed to know what he was doing after all. So now or never. With another deep breath Matthew closed his eyes and rushed the ledge, leaping a bit too early and landing a bit too soon. The boy’s knee caught against the shingles and scraped roughly against the piping and for a long agonizingly drawn out moment all he could think of was the fact his feet were first of all not on the ground and his shoulder felt like someone had wretched it out. When he was quite suddenly hauled up onto the roof top with little to no delicacy the boy took a moment to just sit there shaking in silence, not even acknowledging the awful stinging in his knee.  
“Jesus Christ! You almost took a nasty tumble there; I told you I would catch you.” Matthew’s eyes finally focused as he stared at Alfred blankly before reaching out and grabbing the older boy’s hand and squeezing it so tightly he practically cut off the circulation to the blond’s fingers. Alfred said nothing about it and rather helped Matthew up, catching sight of the nasty wound the boy had gotten on his leg. Wincing slightly Alfred merely remained silent, Lysimanche making a sheepish comment about Matthew keeping a hold on the books. Ottium was stiffened in the same silence, feather ruffled up completely and eyes blown wide. When Matthew finally spoke he sounded surprisingly calm but his voice still shook minutely.  
“Thank you for catching me, Alfred.”  
“You’re welcome…” The older boy smiled as much as he could in the current situation before simply leading Matthew along. They’d made a pretty impressive leap for a couple of young boys even if the younger of the two had miscalculated the jump a bit. Alfred should have walked him through it better than just asking him to jump. For next time if he could even convince Matthew to do that again.  
“We should be down to the ground soon, okay? Uhm… Is your leg okay?” Matthew was still in shock over his experience and slowly looked up at Alfred with a dazed look on his face. His leg. The pain hit the young boy at just that moment and his soft face screwed up into a grimace as he looked down at it.  
“I… I’m not sure. It’s not broken or anything. I’ll be fine. If anybody asks I’ll say I fell will doing chores or something.” A little white lie no doubt but all Matthew really wanted to do was get down from the roofs. The adrenaline pushing its way through his small body was almost overwhelming and he felt he might faint from sheer rush than anything. The little blond kept a firm hold on Alfred’s hand the rest of the way, making sure that the older boy led him through anymore jumps and spotted him for when they to climb down from places. By the time they were down to the ground Matthew’s sock was saturated with blood Ottium was flying funny. Now that the child’s head had cleared some the pain was really bothering him. He certainly wasn’t used to pain whatsoever and Alfred was now hovering over him insistently, a worried expression on his face.  
“Come on, Matthew. Let’s go to my room, okay. You think you’ll make it?”  
“I don’t know… This really hurts, Alfred.”  
“If it helps I think you’re handling the pain pretty well! You’ve got really good uh… It’s like… Right, self control.” Alfred’s words managed to make Matthew smile at least a little before he nodded slightly and let a small shiver shake his shoulders.  
“You think we should get Mister Francis?”  
“Only if we hide the books first.” Alfred’s answer was simple enough and Matthew agreed to it quickly as the two boys circled around the building shortly and crept their way back in through the front door. Scholars were not meandering their ways around everywhere but all now had their head down in thought, faces shoved in books, or were simply too busy rushing to seminars and the likes to actually look at Alfred and Matthew for too long. The trip to Alfred’s room was easy and on the way there the older asked a favor of one of the scholars in the nearby area to fetch Francis for them.  
Once the two were seated in the room Alfred quickly shoved the books away except the one that Ottium was holding seeing as he quite bluntly refused to touch the daemon and Ottium was clearly not giving the book up any time soon. Matthew sat in the window seat with his leg propped up on a chair with a make shift bandage made out of an old shirt Alfred said was too small to be of any use. When Francis arrived in the room he seemed vaguely annoyed but altogether curious as to what Alfred could want with him on the day that the child had freedom from his studies; when met with Matthew and his injury the man’s mood swung around in a complete three sixty.  
“What in good Heavens?” Francis made quick haste to Matthew, dropping to his knees by the boy without much thought to his robes and took a hold of the child’s leg firmly. Alfred seemed to go meek automatically as he looked to Matthew for some kind of wording.  
“Alfred and I were playing and I tripped.” The younger boy lied effortlessly for someone who rarely did it. If Francis had known any better he would have questioned it but with Matthew he really thought he had no reason to. Instead he scowled slightly and looked over to Alfred, as if this had confirmed his suspicions that Matthew would get seriously hurt around the older boy. Which, really? He hadn’t been entirely wrong. It was better he didn’t know the truth about the wound.  
Britainny stared at Alfred intently as well and Lysimanche was quite effectively hiding in Alfred’s hair in the form of a dormouse now. She didn’t wish to have the lioness’ gaze upon her for fear the intense stare might make her spill the truth. Britainny did have a strange effect on others like that. Francis left momentarily to go collect supplies after making sure Alfred got the correct look to tell him that they would be talking later. In the mean time Alfred turned to Matthew with a look of unease and slight awe plastered over his face.  
“How did you manage to get him to believe you? Every time I try to lie to him I end up grinning…”  
“You smile when you lie?” Matthew seemed a bit surprised at this and couldn’t help but laugh a little as Alfred gave a dejected shrug over it.  
“Yeah… It’s not really very convenient.”  
“I guess I’m just good at it? I don’t know… I don’t lie much.” Alfred accepted this and went silent as Francis reentered the room with a small bowl of warm water and a rag along with bandages that Britainny was carrying in her mouth. He went back to Matthew, shooing Alfred away, and knelt there before getting to work. First he went about cleaning the wound which made Matthew whine with pain more than once to which each time he was firmly hushed by the man attending him. After most of the blood and grime was cleared away, and Francis had tugged away the boy’s shoe and sock, the bandaging was wrapped around it. All said and done the wound was properly bound and the boy given a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek for his good behavior during the whole ordeal.  
“Now, no going outside and absolutely no rough housing, understood?” Francis seemed to be directing this more at Alfred then he was Matthew, his tone stern as blue eyes narrowed.  
“I shall come back to check on your wound when I am actually done with my own work for the day. I will have Mademoiselle Jovanneson fetch you when she can—“ Alfred cut off Francis at this point, daringly so one would add.  
“Why can’t Matthew just stay here? This room is big enough for the both of us and I saw where he really sleeps. It’s not fair that he has to sleep in a pantry like that.” Matthew duly noted that Alfred had used his own wording of pantry rather than closet this time and suppressed a small smile at it. Francis on the other hand seemed shocked over what Alfred had just said, looking between the two boys before folding his hands together and looking over at Britainny. They shared short private words between the two of them before Francis looked back to Alfred, obviously skeptical.  
“After seeing what happened just with you two playing, Alfred, I am very unsure if having the two of you lodge together would be a wise idea.” The look of insult that came onto the boy’s face at this was so much alike to that of Arthur Kirkland’s that Francis almost laughed aloud to himself and ruined the mood. If he had known that Alfred could imitate his uncle like that he would have said something even brasher if only to see his face turn bright red like Arthur’s always did.  
“It was an accident! That doesn’t count at all. You can’t just say that because he fell and hurt himself that he can’t sleep someplace big enough to where he can actually stretch.” The second the characteristic grin popped up on Alfred’s face Francis was cued in on something amiss. Matthew’s face bleached of color at the realization of it as well as he stared at Alfred only to find the boy staring back at him. As the silence ticked by in agonizing seconds the three of the room’s occupants sat there and stared at one another before Francis finally spoke.  
“Fine. We will see.” And without another word both he and his daemon left the room. Alfred felt faint with relief as he very abruptly fell back onto the bed and lay there. Matthew stood carefully from where he was sitting and walked his way over to Alfred, sliding onto it with a soft laugh.  
“You almost ruined it there for a second, Alfred.”  
“Yeah, I know! No need to remind me. What a close call.” With the whole ordeal out of the way and a small rest taken Alfred sat up and looked Matthew over, brow drawn together and lips pursed.  
“Is your leg going to be okay though?” Matthew looked down at the bandages currently wrapped securely around his fresh wound. The pain had officially set in and it made him want to cry but he kept his head about him and sucked it up so as to not cry in front of Alfred. It was then that Ottium dropped the book he had been carrying in Matthew’s lap and promptly followed in the form of a bundle of nervously purring fur. Ottium ended up being pet absently as Matthew picked up the book dropped and stared at it.  
“What books did you all get anyways?” Alfred asked after a moment of silence. Matthew thought over this. He had just started grabbing books that seemed interesting to be honest. He hardly remembered what the last few had been given the terrible tumble had wiped most of his memories right out with sheer terror.  
“Bring them out and I’ll show you.” Alfred’s eyebrows arched at this in silent questioning before he did as he was told and slid off the bed before stooping to pull the books in mention out from under the bed they were seated upon. Pushing the books onto the bed where Matthew could get at them Alfred climbed back on and sat on his knees, palms pressed into the bedsheets as he waited for Matthew to explain what he had selected. The first book was one that Alfred had carried-- a big behemoth of a book with leather bindings that were dyed red and the title stenciled in gold leaf.  
“This one is about the known world and its history… I thought it would be cool to read, you know?”  
“It sounds pretty cool! Is it like about Africa too? You mentioned that place yesterday, I remember.” Matthew nodded to answer Alfred’s question before tugging the next book over. This one was a book with a soft cloth binding that was blotchily dyed a faint blue violet color with the title painted onto it.  
“This one should be about plants and how you can use them… medicinally.” Pausing to make sure he pronounced the word right Matthew looked up to see Alfred staring at him blankly. The older boy obviously had no clue what the word medicinally meant and if Matthew hadn’t been such a humbled child he might have laughed in the other blond’s confused face.  
“Like, for helping you when you’re sick.”  
“Medici…nally? Medicinally. Okay, okay. And this one?” Alfred picked up one of the books that Matthew had been carrying-- a smaller one with a strange binding of tanned hide that neither child could really make sense of. The title was pressed into the spine of the book and then painted with stain.  
“This one is about… Well, I can’t entirely tell from the title itself… But I think it’s supposed to be about the people of the New World-- the Americans.” Alfred seemed a bit confused at what Matthew was saying but didn’t question it. Instead he nodded along and let Matthew continue as he set the strange book aside and picked up the next to last one. This book was the smallest, but thickest, besides the one Ottium had carried and was bound tightly in royal purple fabric with gold details that were a part of the cloth itself. This was the one that Alfred had complained about; it was Arthur Kirkland’s autobiography. All the older boy did was grimace as Matthew quickly put it out of reach seeing as it was self explanatory what it was.  
“And that last one?”  
“It’s a book of poetry.” Matthew’s answer was quick as he showed Alfred the small baby blue book with the silver printing on it. It had no real title on it other than the swirling cursive on the spine that even Matthew had a hard time reading and the simple initials pressed into the pristine cover. It was as if nobody had really read the book which was odd since all books in Jordan were in some kind of disarray from being read so many times. Maybe that was why Matthew had been drawn to it.  
“That sounds… Really boring.” Matthew shot Alfred an uncharacteristically sharp look that made Alfred raise his hands palms out in his own defense.  
“I thought it would be nice for light reading.”  
“I’m hoping the rest of this is heavy reading?”  
“Sort of.” Alfred laughed dryly a this and merely shook his head with a sigh.  
“Wow, you really are too smart for me aren’t you?”  
“Are you kidding?” Matthew seemed shocked at Alfred’s words, setting the book back down into the pile and nudging the older boy in the arm.  
“You knew how to jump off that roof and you’re really good at mathematics. Like, really good. Plus you’re older than me so… age is experience right? And you know what vampires are.” Alfred held a stubborn pout before his expression dissolved into a smile at Matthew’s words. Laughing lightly the older boy nodded before freezing suddenly.  
“Hey Matthew-- Where did the flowers go?” Matthew hadn’t even realized that somewhere in their adventure the two of them had misplaced the crowns. It upset him slightly but after all that had happened in that short time span he could hardly blame Alfred or himself for having lost them.  
“Oh… We can always make more I guess. It will be good practice.” Alfred relaxed automatically before looking back to the books, head cocked minutely as he seemed to contemplate something. Matthew watched him, hand drifting back down to pet Ottium who had finally managed to calm down now that everything was righted and the action had ceased officially. Hand drifting over to the book pile Alfred picked up the one written by his uncle and stared at it with a mixture of curiosity and distaste.  
“So, you’re really going to read this thing?” As Matthew gave a sure but soft yes Alfred flipped the book open to a random page and squinted, starting his own slow process of deciphering the words within the book. Lysimanche finally popped up out of her hiding place now, saying something to Alfred who snapped the book closed from frustration and passed it back to Matthew. The younger boy took it with a twinge of concern and obvious perplexion but didn’t say anything at first. When he did he did so hesitantly.  
“Read something bad?”  
“No.” The answer was short and sharp and Matthew had half the thought to recoil but instead pressed forward.  
“Then what is it?” Alfred made a sour face, like one might make when they taste something they really don’t enjoy but can’t find a drink to wash it away with. Lysimanche scampered down from Alfred’s hair and landed on his shoulder with a shrill wordless squeak. After a couple moments her shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.  
“Couldn’t read it.” Matthew blinked at Alfred’s answer. He was aware that Alfred did have trouble reading but the fact the boy was telling him he couldn’t read from the book at all was, admittedly, a bit shocking to him. Picking up the discarded autobiography Matthew flipped to the first page after skimming through the table of contents and getting past the acknowledgements and notes sections. Both of which were… unnecessarily long.  
“You think, Alfred… That since we have separated skills we could teach one another? You can help me with mathematics and I can help you with literature. Maybe I can even help you with that, ah…” There was a pause for a slight laugh as Matthew looked up from the book to see Alfred slowly going red in the face. “Smiling thing.” That was what made Alfred’s face really flair as he looked down and grumbled something while Lysimanche gave a chittering noise akin to laughter.  
“Yeah, okay I guess. And the smiling thing isn’t that bad alright?”  
“You grin like you need to fart, Alfred.” Alfred seemed to choke on his spit at this and Lysimanche was causing quite a ruckus laughing at her partner as he stared at Matthew in shock, the insulted look from earlier finding its way back on his face. Matthew started to laugh as well at this point, slapping a hand over his mouth and looking away as Alfred tried to find a way to respond to what had been said to him.  
“Do not, totally do not. Lies and slander.”  
“Lies and slander huh? You’re smiling right now you know.” Automatically the smile that had popped up on Alfred’s face widened even as he tried to force it away. Even Ottium was starting to giggle now, intensely amused by the current situation even if he wasn’t letting on that he was.  
“Come on, Alfred!” Lysimanche finally spoke up, morphing suddenly into a parrot with pretty blue and yellow feathers. “Just give in, he’s right you know.” Matthew looked at Lysimanche in surprise, noting how she was agreeing with him. Alfred quickly butted back into the conversation with a groan and some vague hand motions.  
“Fine, fine! The smiling thing is a problem… I’ll accept the help if it means it’ll stop. I haven’t been able to get away with anything ever since Sir Bonnefoy caught on to that.”  
“It’s a deal then! I’ll help you with your fart face and reading and you help me with math.”  
“Hey, don’t call it that!... Eugh, okay—It’s a deal.”  
“Great, we can start now.” Matthew responded with a smile of his own, grabbing the biggest of the books, the one bound in red leather, and moved so he could lay the book down where they could both look at it. Careful of his wounded leg the young blond let Ottium settle on one side of him while Lysimanche went to go rest on the feline’s back and started to preen his fur while Alfred settled next to Matthew.  
As it would be, Francis eventually agreed to let Matthew move into the same room as Alfred. The move from one building to the other was a slow process that involved taking the few items that Matthew actually owned and taking them to the room him and Alfred would soon share. Mikyla was the one that seemed the most emotional about it all among the crew of workers and handmaids that had grown fond of Matthew in the years that he had been with them. Matthew himself found out last minute that his usual daily chores would be revoked as well and that he would have much more free time to himself. It was all going to be new strange and confusing and Matthew wasn’t quite sure what he would do without his work and determined that he would perhaps start helping around the scholar’s building with things such as bustling books and helping to sort and inventory the library-- Anything that wouldn’t leave him too idle in his spare time.  
The months glided by from April and eventually to June and finally to July. The two boys were at peace, content with their running around and studying and sometimes Alfred would even help Matthew out with his insistent manual labor and all and all the two boys grew bit by bit while Alfred grew jittery about the coming days that would lead to his birthday. After all, his uncle would be visiting on that day and if he could get the lord to listen Alfred would surely tell him all that he had missed over the year. Ah, but a whimsical wish it was. The two boys of Jordan College in the good settlement of Oxford would find that their simple lives would only get a lot more complicated with the appearance of the mysterious Arthur Kirkland. A whole lot more complicated indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter unveiled at last. I'll be getting to work on Chapter Three as soon as possible! This may be a monthly updated story and it may not be depending on how long it takes me to write these chapters. Do keep in mind though that I will be making your waiting worth it-- this is a LOT of content after all. For anybody wondering, this story is maxing out at almost 30,000 words and almost 70 pages in the original Microsoft word file!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to leave some commentary! Thanks for reading-- Addio!


	3. Belated Arrivals

It was the eve of July 3rd, otherwise known as July 2nd, when the infamous Lord Arthur Kirkland was set to arrive in the humbled halls of Jordan College. Sadly, the infamous Lord Arthur Kirkland had a thing for being fashionably late and the arrival was postponed for two days—that which coincidentally coincided with Alfred Kirkland’s twelfth birthday. In the days before his arrival is where our focus lies, as with many months passed come many changes since. As seasons change, people do as well, and each morning sky would only looks the same if you aren’t really looking at all. The world is full of little surprises in thousands of little ways.  
Alas, it was not surprising at all that Alfred and Matthew had managed to get themselves into trouble a couple of times over the months and even less a surprise that the two boys had figured out how to get off college grounds and into the streets of Oxford. They were, together, quite the unstoppable force of mischief and cunning after all. So it would make sense that on this particular afternoon, once the two had managed to slip from their studies they would make their way down to the gates and slip out through the space of two bars that hadn’t quite been put in the right places. Who could blame them for using such a subtle architectural fault to their advantage after all?  
This simple flaw in the patchwork lead Alfred and Matthew to the company of the Vargas family in due time. It was after nearly a couple of weeks, as the two had taken their time to slowly explore the immediate area of Oxford outside of the college, which was when their paths crossed. It was Alfred who had noticed the house where two boys sat on the roof and would stare at them as they walked past. One of them would wave and the other would simply keep staring and one day the two boys stopped and called up to the other two children on the roof. They were twins, brothers, and Alfred and Matthew soon found out their names were Lovino and Feliciano Vargas. With a bit of persuasion the two twins got down from the rooftop they were seated upon, Feliciano dragging Lovino most of the way down, and met up with the two boys from the college.  
Feliciano and Lovino Vargas were peculiar boys who were, as most twins are, almost complete opposites. They both had the same face with tanned skin, narrowed body builds that would likely follow them into adulthood, big light brown eyes with long eyelashes, and of course their dark chestnut brown hair was cut short to avoid letting the curls that resides in it get out of hand. They wore simple worn down clothes that were often too big for them and normally had at least a thin layer of grime on them that matched all their assorted bumps and cuts. Almost automatically the four boys became chummy with one another and before the two college children knew it they were being introduced to the rest of the Vargas family.  
Inside the cozy little house past the transportation moat with a stunning view of Jordan College there was little space for four boys’ much less two more and a bustling mother-- Said bustling mother being Io Vargas. Io was a true beauty unparalleled in the city of Oxford alone and had she lived in the world her ancestors came from she would start a war three times the size of the Trojan. She was a taller woman with a lithe and strong build, her skin a startling shade of ivory compared to her darker skinned sons’. Her hair was a deep dark brown with curls to rival the horns of a ram and long enough to brush the back of her thighs if she neglected to trim it. Her pretty green eyes were just the same as the Greek Fire of legends—bright and beautiful but dangerous all the same.  
Her daemon, Adelphos, was a huge bull-- all sinew and solid muscle with large curving horns and a pelt so pure a shade of white that it seemed to shimmer in the sun and glow silver with the moon. Although he had trouble coming inside the house Adelphos never wandered very far from the home even when the need to investigate things arose. He often stayed nearby and kept an eye out for trouble with the children and other things along such lines. After all, when a woman has four sons she needs every pair of eyes she can get. Io’s said four sons were of varying ages, the oldest being sixteen years of age. His name was Herakles and he was a rather idle young man who had not yet moved from home despite his mother’s pleading to go out into the world and do something with himself. He looked much like his mother with his curly hair grown out around his chin and the same green eyes. His skin was darker, and he was built much more like his father had been—sturdy and strong like a prize winning stud. Certainly one that many mares would trip over their hooves for, his mother sometimes mused. Alas-- Herakles Karpusi, as he had taken his mother’s maiden name at birth, much preferred to lie about on the roof to daydream and occasionally help with housework than to go off courting and adventuring. The young man’s daemon, Rhea, had quite appropriately settled into the form of a greyhound dog. The next two were Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, both taking much more after their father than they did Io. They were, as twins, both around Alfred’s age if not a bit older. Their unsettled daemons had the names of Lia and Letizia— Lia being Feliciano’s and Letizia being Lovino’s. Following up the rear of the lineup was the youngest brother, romantically named Michelangelo and affectionately called Micha for short. He looked much like the twins except his skin was lighter and his eyes a green dominated hazel that gave him a dazzling glance even at such a young age. Micha’s own erratically changing daemon was named Selvaggia and the six year old had taken to calling her Salve for the fact he could not for the life of him seem to say her name correctly yet.  
Alfred and Matthew often heard stories about the man who had shared his last name and lineage with Io and three of her sons but had never met the man first hand and found that Michelangelo had never seen his father in person before. The man was named Romulus, after the great founder of the Old Empire. Apparently he was a great adventurer and a skilled combatant, though when Lovino would talk about how his father was better than the flake-off Arthur Kirkland Alfred would sharply remind him who he was talking to. Lovino often was begrudging apologizing but was never one to back his fierce words up with actions.  
And so this was the household that Matthew and Alfred would find their way into, nestled among the other boys and finally finding themselves with people other than themselves—which, no matter how fond they were of one another, was a sure relief. On this particular day the boys were playing around by the small inner-city canal that the Jordan College and Oxford alike used for supply shipments and travel. It was muggy down by the waters and every so often one of the boys would slap themselves or one another to strike down a pesky mosquito that had decided to land on them. They had all recently engaged in a bit of a strange game of hurling mud at one another and they were splattered with the muck, which was in various stages of drying. The alliances made had been Alfred, Matthew, and Feliciano versus Herakles and Lovino. It was one of the rare times that the eldest brother would join the younger kids in their shenanigans and he had proved a formidable foe to go against in the mud flinging war.  
Now the five of them had chosen to rest in the shade where Herakles had been quick to nod off into a light slumber with Rhea curled up on his lap contently, occasionally opening her bleary eyes before closing them again. In the meantime the remaining four chatted absently amongst themselves, daemons gathered together and grooming mud out of feather, fur, and scale if it so be. Alfred was seated next to Matthew, legs crossed and a streak of grime swiped over his cheek as well as a blotch staining his white shirt that would surely give some poor maid a run for their money. Matthew himself seemed to be almost free of mud other than what was on his loafers, hands, and several droplets scattered over his face. Feliciano and Lovino were somehow caked with the mud from the canal and were, much like their daemons, grooming one another seemingly out of sheer habit of doing so. It was Alfred who spoke first after a long stretch of silence.  
“So. Good game.” Lysimanche, currently in the form of a ferret, gave a chirping noise as she agreed nonverbally with Alfred’s statement. Ottium, who was grooming her in the form of a calico coated cat, seemed to only purr along. Feliciano gave a light laugh as Lovino proceed to scrape his nail gently against mud on the boy’s face. “It was, wasn’t it? We won too! Great teamwork!” Lia and Letizia, both in the form of turtledoves, seemed to get in a small brief scuffle before calming back down and going back to preening as Lovino let out a low grunt.  
“Yeah, only because Matthew is some kind of super genius-- Your strategy is too good for you being such a shrimp!” Matthew’s lips quirked in a slight smirk at this as he puffed air through his nose silently and let his chest jut a bit. Alfred in turn clapped a hand on his pride filled friend’s back and laughed loudly. “Oh come on, why do you think I took him over Hera? Sure your big brother is good for firepower but Matthew is crazy smart. It was just the obvious choice!” Lovino’s scoffing made Feliciano snicker louder until the more abrasive twin pinched his cheek sharply and shut him up.  
“Yeah, well, I call him next time. You can have this guy again.” And with a nudge Lovino pushed Feliciano away slightly and pursed his lips in a way that all four of the boys could identify as strikingly similar to Io. Matthew simply shrugged and pulled his legs up, leaning back on the heels of his hands.  
“I guess I’ll be on your team next time, Lovino. Maybe.” The maybe made Lovino’s eyes narrow as his nose crinkled up and the expression prompted Feliciano to laugh again, Alfred joining in this time as Lovino’s face darkened with embarrassment. Even Letizia could be heard snickering slightly as she paused in grooming Lia’s feathers. After several moments of trying to be mad about the other’s laughing Lovino gave in with a soft sigh and a half grimace half smile found its way onto his face. Alfred reached over and nudged the dark skinned boy good heartedly and flashed him a well meaning grin.  
“But hey, the only stakes for this battle were who is going to make up the excuse about why we’re all covered in mud. So, seeing as Hera is…”  
“Very much awake, thank you.” The sudden murmur from the presumably sleeping young man startled all four of the boys out of their wits as Herakles peeked out at them with one eye open.  
“If you’re all too bothered with it, I’ll make up the excuse. She won’t buy it but whatever.” And before the other kids could ask another question the snooze-prone young adult’s eyes closed again and he heaved a heavy sigh. Seemed it would be left at that then. Exchanging looks of muted surprise the four kids only stayed around in the shade for a max of ten minutes before gathering themselves and starting the trek back to the Vargas’ house. They took the short cut through the back alleys of the town, boosting one another over walls and slipping past gates and through other’s gardens. The whole way there was filled with a very sudden debate centered on what was an appropriate meal to have for breakfast if you had been up all night and skipped dinner.  
While the two kids of Jordan argued that you should simply have a filling breakfast food, the Vargas twins were bent on saying that you should eat a plate of dinner and a light breakfast to balance it out. When the four of them finally consulted the otherwise silent Herakles on the matter he took several moments to merely stare up at the sky before answering simply. Obviously you should just have flat cakes with sausage. After all, it was both a food for breakfast and one for dinner. The answer was mulled over initially before being accepted as the only true one, although Lovino and Alfred both said that their own ideas were entirely valid as well.  
Upon arriving at the house the boys split up. Herakles announced his need to take a piss quick bluntly before walking away to the bathroom before anybody could say anything and left the children to face Io without a proper excuse to back them up. The muttering of Feliciano and Lovino alike were bitter enough to spoil milk. While the boys found that Io was busying herself with trying to convince Micha to keep his clothes on she was quick to spot them in their muddied attire, zeroing in on them like a hawk. She was upon them faster than even her own son’s could open their mouths in defense and all four of them got a swift thump to the ear that left their heads twirling slightly. Yes, even Matthew. The soft cries of pain and discomfort did nothing to deter her as she held the squirming and still half clothed Micha to her hip. Lips pursed in that Oh-So-Io-Expression the woman’s green eyes narrowed as she let the boys recover from the boxing of their ears.  
“Should I even dare to ask as to why you are filthy?” It seemed automatically under the stare of Io alone the four boys grew meek. When Adelphos came up from the rear, having been by the kitchen window and moved around the house, the daemons of the party found they couldn’t hide from Io’s stare by hiding behind their companion’s legs—as in a way Adelphos was of course Io. This left the total of eight individuals surrounded. After several agonizing moments of silence with Io and Adelphos staring the boys and their daemons down, Lovino spoke up and then Feliciano followed. The two jabbered over each other and occasionally spoke in unison. How Io managed to listen to the two at once and decipher their gibberish was surely some kind of miracle but by the time the two had finished nagging one another for speaking with they were speaking and shut themselves up the woman was merely sighing as she one-handed shoved Micah back into his shirt.  
Matthew and Alfred looked between one another with their eyebrows raised and the slightest of smiles gracing their faces as Io licked a thumb and leaned over slightly to use it to rub a spot of dirt off of Feliciano’s nose before smoothing out Lovino’s eyebrows.  
“Enough, you two rascals. You’re just like your father I swear. Since Micha cannot seem to keep his clothes on anyways I suppose now is a good time for baths. Clothes off and to the tub with you dirty little munchkin children!” Almost automatically Feliciano and Lovino, with Lia and Letizia on their tails, made a line for the bathroom while hollering to Herakles to start the hot tap. Clothes went flying every which way and Micah promptly managed to kick his trousers off somehow while Io gave Matthew and Alfred a stern look.  
“Now, you two… Try to clean yourselves up, will you? I am guessing you were playing the strategist again, Matthew?” Her remark was partially teasing but held a twinge of pride, as if she might as well be talking to her own son in that moment. Matthew’s smile was enough for her as an answer and she reached out to tousle his hair, which had since in the month grown to brush his shoulders, and then turned to Alfred.  
“And of course you two must have teamed up. No doubt about it. Brains and brawn, yes? War spirit and wisdom… Ah, you two.” And giving Alfred a pat atop the head as well Io turned away with her semi-cryptic message still lingering over the two blonds as she loosened her dress casually and made to go to the bathroom with Michelangelo and Selvaggia at her heels; Adelphos circled back around the house to linger by the tiny bathroom window. In the meantime Matthew looked back to Alfred again, still beaming slightly from the compliment to find Alfred staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.  
“We do make a good team don’t we, huh?” This seemed to snap Alfred out of his miniature trance as he blinked thrice and hummed out his request for Matthew to repeat what he’d said. Lysimanche suddenly popped her head out of Alfred’s shirt and looked at Matthew, her beady eyes shining.  
“Could be better, but pretty okay.” Ottium gave a clicking noise from somewhere in his throat at this statement and Lysimanche looked down at him from her vantage point, baring her tiny sharp teeth in a grin before tucking her head back into Alfred’s clothes. The blond himself gave a soft snicker before shrugging and turning away from Matthew to start tugging his shirt off. The younger watched briefly, thinking to himself before turning away himself to go pick up the discarded clothes so Io would not have to later. In his own private thoughts he was, in fact, thinking about Alfred. Recently the older boy had started to grow again, getting taller and his voice had even started to change. Sometimes when he got too excited or emotional about something it would crack and go very high pitched before swinging back down to normal.  
Francis had been neglecting to tell Matthew himself what exactly was going on with Alfred but judging by the broadening of the boy’s shoulders and how he was oh so slowly already losing his baby faced looks and the likes Matthew was smart enough to conclude that he was going through that lovely thing that he had read about very briefly in a book on the human body. Puberty. Or, at least the early stages of it so as Matthew knew. Sadly, Matthew himself was still too young to be going through this magic time in a blossoming adults life and wasn’t sure if he should ask Alfred questions about it or not. The few times he had brought it up, Alfred almost seemed embarrassed about it. He supposed it was because he was younger. How did you talk about something like becoming an adult with someone who had no idea what it was like?  
In the meantime, all the soiled clothes were put into a pile for cleaning, including Alfred’s which he tossed in while Matthew was washing the long since dried mud off his hands and using some of Io’s lotion to alleviate the dryness his skin suffered from the river clay drying on it. Alfred was quick to throw on another shirt, one borrowed from one of the Vargas twins no doubt, and flop into a seat at the kitchen table with a heavy and loud sigh.  
“Say, this is sort of out of nowhere, but do you think my uncle will actually even show up?” Matthew looked up from rubbing his hands together, Ottium walking along the surfaces of the kitchen will ease and skill while he did so.  
“I would think so, yes. Although… I guess you’re asking me if he’ll come to visit you.” Matthew duly noted that he had struck some sort of nerve with this question as Alfred’s face screwed up. Every moment when the older boy was not occupied he seemed to be worrying about his uncle’s arrival, or even lack thereof. Matthew wasn’t sure how to help him with his troubles seeing as the closest person Matthew even had to family worked right in the university and had raised the both of them. Although, sometimes Matthew thought that maybe Missus Jovanneson was more responsible for raising him that Mister Francis had been.  
“Yeah… I guess I am. I don’t know. It has been a year and he’s already sent word that he’s delaying his arrival. Sir Bonnefoy said he’s always been like that but… it just sort of bothers me.” Matthew wished he could say he understood how Alfred felt but he wasn’t really sure he did. This was definitely not the first time the two hadn’t seen eye to on something but Matthew felt this was likely much more important than all the other times. Staying quiet as Ottium took a seat on a shelf filled with hand written cookbooks and staring at Alfred intently, Matthew quietly dried his hands off and went to go take a seat. He sat by Alfred at the table, hands folded in his laps neatly.  
“I think he’d be making a grave mistake if he didn’t bother himself to see you.” Matthew’s voice was soft while he said this, and if Alfred hadn’t been listening it might’ve been lost in the drone of the city or the noises coming from the bathroom where the Vargas family seemed to be having a real hoot. It meant more to him than Matthew could have guessed and helped to calm his nerves slightly. He felt like he might be being a bit dumb hoping that his uncle would be warmer to him. The older blond had found that he could relate with Lovino pretty well on the matter of missing male figures. Their father, Romulus, was a warm man when he was around and brought out a new kind of fire in the household that although Io kept it alive did not fan it nearly as blazing and warm as he did. Lovino took much pride in his dad but often felt neglected and upset, even if the man did write home fairly often. It had made Alfred think.  
Arthur never really did write him and if he did write to Jordan at all it was either pure academic or maybe once in a blue moon checking in on how Francis was doing. When he was in the University he was always busy with work and often brushed Alfred aside once they were done with their curt and polite discussion of the boy’s studies. He never seemed to have time to talk to Alfred about things which not once had bothered the boy that much before but now… It just seemed like he’d finally figured out what had been missing the whole time and it really genuinely bugged him.  
“Thanks, Matthew-- really. I’ll try not to think about it so much, okay?” Matthew gave a nod and a murmur of something that Alfred could just barely out as ‘it is alright’ before the younger boy folded his arms over the tabletop and rested his head into the crook of an arm. The sound of a shrill peel of laughter and a banging noise followed by a scolding tone came from the bathroom and both boys listened to the ruckus for several moments before Alfred started to speak again.  
“You ever sort of wonder what exactly that’s like?” Matthew’s brows moved up as his gaze moved back over to Alfred who was currently leaned back in his chair, picking at his nails absently.  
“Taking a bath or?” The small joke managed to make a smile crack on Alfred’s face despite his seriousness. To top his comment off Matthew continued. “Because if you’re talking about the bath part I’d say it’s pretty nice.”  
“Yeah, totally the bath-- Haven’t bathed since I was five years old. I miss the feeling of clean.” It was Matthew’s turn to laugh as he turned his head and giggled into his arm before sitting up and supporting himself on his elbows. One hand reached up to brush his hair free of tangles, a habit he’d taken up since he couldn’t figure out how to tie a ribbon into his hair yet and letting it fall free led to some nasty knots.  
“I was talking about the whole family business. Like… I think Madam Vargas sort of considers us like…”  
“An extension of family?”  
“Yeah.” Alfred took a moment to think this over a bit more before nodding again, seemingly relieved that Matthew got what he was saying. Why he would worry about this was beyond reason. Matthew may be confused about the more complex things of growing up but he was no stranger to these kinds of thoughts. “It seems like its nice is all. Do you think all families are like this?” Matthew took his time to answer, small fingers picking apart a particularly stubborn tangle that had found its home among his wavy locks.  
“I wouldn’t guess so. Mister Francis and I are supposed to be family and we aren’t…”  
“All that close?”  
“I know he must care about me, otherwise he wouldn’t be so picky when he is around. It’s just we aren’t like… Well, this.” And to express his point he gestured over in the direction of the bathroom with a worn out and vaguely sad smile-- A look that no child should have to adopt. Alfred nodded, getting what Matthew was saying and the two fell silent again for a short time as Ottium hopped down from the shelf and managed to make his way to the kitchen table. The feline daemon took a seat by Matthew, leaning into the boy and closing his eyes. It was at this time that the previously silent daemon spoke.  
“You’re both too young to be having talks like this. You sound like old men. Talk about something happier like… like…”  
“What the next adventure is going to be!” Piped up Lysimanche shrilly, offering her thoughts on the matter. Ottium flicked his ears in agreement but did not move otherwise. Alfred seemed slightly relieved at being given a chance to shed the heavy topic off his shoulders and think about something more positive.  
“That sounds like a great idea actually. You know what I recently found? The place where the scholars keep all their spirits-- like, the alcohol or whatever. There’s this cellar under the college.”  
“You found this out how?”  
“Just some talking. Wait, did you already know about it or something?” Matthew shrugged, knitting his fingers together and then separating them.  
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been in it or really near it… You know, for obvious reasons.” There was eye rolling over the comment but Alfred didn’t bother to get too into it, instead opting to ignore the bleeding sass.  
“Yeah, well, I want to see what it’s like. We should go sometime. Apparently there’s a whole bunch of stuff under the college—like uh… That… That thing in—“  
“In France? The catacombs?”  
“Yeah! That kind of stuff. Except uh… I’m not sure about the whole spooky scary curse of the dead bodies’ thing.”  
“Spooky scary, huh? You aren’t scared though right?” The little quip made Alfred sit up straight as he stared Matthew straight in the eye. The younger boy knew exactly what he’d done and for sure had done it on purpose. He often took Alfred’s feelings into consideration but the older boy’s determination to show absolutely no fear amused Matthew at some times. That old insulted look came back up onto said blond’s face as his nose wrinkled up and lips drew back.  
“Of course not. I’m just saying like… in general.”  
“Ah-huh.”  
“I am! Pah—Whatever.”  
“Okay, okay! So, you aren’t scared. What else is there down there besides wine and tunnels?”  
“I’m not sure, that’s why this would be something cool to do! Unless you don’t want to I guess.” Matthew shrugged again, smile lingering as he thought it over. It did sound as if the place they were going would be… if anything, unsettling. Probably dark and dank if Matthew remembered right from the last time he’d been in a cellar. Musty, perhaps.  
“Of course I’d come. It’s better to go in a pair than alone, right?”  
“Yeah, like you said. Of course. So it’s a deal then. And no need to worry about those dead bodies and stuff. If a skeleton tries to grab you I’ll just kick it in the clavicle!”  
“It’s the thought that counts. I’m not sure if kicking a skeleton in the clavicle will do much though. Maybe if you just punt its skull off.”  
“You think a skeleton can bite you?” Matthew swayed in his seat slightly as the noise from the bathroom reached an all time high, the sounds of distressed lowing from Adelphos likely alerting the whole house and their neighbors of Io’s distress over whatever might be going on.  
“That depends. Is it like… a magic skeleton? I read that you need muscles to move and skeletons don’t have any.”  
“Well if it’s an undead thingy then obviously it’s magic. Duh.”  
“Duh,” Matthew mocked lightly, making a face at Alfred who automatically made a face back at him. “Well in the case that it is a magic skeleton then yeah I bet it could bite you. Would it turn you into a magic skeleton too is the better question.” Alfred’s face screwed up at the thought as he stared at Matthew skeptically.  
“Well… Is it like a werewolf or vampire bite then? How does that work? Would it put a curse on your bones or what?” The boys went silent as they contemplated the details behind a magic skeleton and what it would mean to be bitten by one. Would it just be a normal bite? Would it curse your bones to come alive as well? Important questions that obviously needed answer; they would have to be saved for another day unfortunately, for at that moment the Vargas family was exiting the bathroom clad in scant clothing and towels. Io herself was struggling to keep up said towel while Herakles seemed entirely uninterested in the towel wrapped around his waist. It was likely that had he not faced the possibility of being boxed in the ears for stripping with ‘guests’ there that he would have.  
“Good grief—you children need to learn that values of soaps! It isn’t cheap you know!”  
“Yes, Mama!” This was chimed in by three of the boys as they struggled to tug the last remains of fresh clothing over still damp skin; in Micha’s case, he was tugging it off. Alfred was quick to stand as Feliciano and Lovino suddenly made an on the spot agreement to see who could get out the front door first, tearing off after one another with a quick and loud goodbye to their mom and a promise to be back by dinner. The exasperated look on Io’s face said it all as she almost dropped her towel and simply watched Lia and Letizia go racing after their humans. Alfred was the next one to exit, Lysimanche still tucked up under his shirt. Matthew tried to get up to follow them but looked back over to Io to see the plan weariness on her face. In the end, he sat back down and looked to the clock. It was lunch time.  
“Those boys… I swear. Ah? Matthew? Aren’t you going to go rip roaring after them, child?” Herakles meandered away back to the rooms on the other side of the house, to go get dressed Matthew would think. Shaking his head in reference to Io’s question he gave a small smile and tried his best to be kind to the worn out looking woman. No doubt they must cause her all some kind of grief.  
“No, Missus Io— its lunch time right? Micha must be hungry and it would be rude to just leave at a time meant for gathering. So I’d assume.”  
“Good gods above and below—Matthew, you are a saint guised as a child. Thank you. Would you mind helping me prepare lunch after I go to get dressed?”  
“Not at all, Missus Io! Do you want me to watch Micha for you?”  
“If you would, child.” With another nod Matthew got up from his seat and called after the teetering toddler who was quick to come running to him, face a mask of sheer glee. Io gave an offhanded, but sincere, thanks as she darted off to the back room to get dressed before her towel fell from her completely. Matthew watched after her, mainly observing the way her curls bounced to and fro when she walked. One hand absently coming up his own hair Matthew couldn’t help but wonder if his own hair looked that way when he ran. Or, that was his train of thought until Michelangelo quite abruptly almost pantsed him with a joyful shout.  
“Micha, hey! No! Clothes on, please!” Sometimes Matthew had a hard time believing that he and Micha were less years apart than he an Alfred were. Granted, Matthew had always been described as acting old for his age but this seemed ridiculous to him. Micha’s smile did not fall but he did nod in understanding and step back. Watching the younger Vargas boy right his clothing so it was on properly, Matthew sighed. At least he’d managed to alleviate another mishap for Io.  
“Clothes on. Okay?”  
“Perfect, Micha… Did you have a nice bath?” Although Micha was six he still wasn’t all that much to talk to and half the time his blabbering of avid interest sounded like a slurred mix between English and some other language. Somehow Io and Herakles could understand it but Matthew for the life of him could never decipher it.  
“That bath was warm! Lovi and Feli kept knocking things so I did too. Mama got mad though and yelled.”  
“That sounds… eventful.” Matthew wasn’t sure what to say to Micha on the topic. The least he could do was at least keep the child distracted from stripping or causing general mayhem. Judging by Selvaggia, who was currently finding her comfort spot among Michelangelo’s curls, the boy had wound out most of his energy and was calming down.  
“Where did they go?” Micha asked suddenly, rocking back and forth on his heels as he patted his own stomach absently. Matthew had to take a moment to think about who they might be before it clicked.  
“I don’t know, really… Probably up to the roof.”  
“Mama says I’m not allowed on the roof.”  
“Mmm… It’s because you’re little.” Michelangelo, instead of getting upset about this seemed to nod along sagely as if what Matthew was saying was some kind of wise and prophetic teaching that he had to commit to memory. Why the blond of all people was the one that Micha would listen to was beyond anybody’s grasp. Not that Matthew was complaining. It was nice to have someone who actually listened to him outside of Alfred. When Ottium landed on Matthew’s shoulders still in the form of a cat and nudged his head the boy was alerted that Io had actually reentered the room and was currently watching the two boys fondly.  
The middle aged woman had changed into a loose drape of a dress, the fabric bunched in on its self in several places and cascading to the floor in folds. The front of the dress was picked up and gathered at the thighs, something a little less modest than what would have been allowed on the streets; this was Io’s home and she dressed how she wanted to anyways.  
“Didn’t mean to interrupt you two— Shall we begin?” Quickly, Io took a hold of her still slightly moisture saturated hair and tied it back with surprising ease. It was then that she strode back over into the open kitchen, bare feet slapping quietly against the hard wood floors. Matthew put a hand on Micha’s shoulder at this time and steered the toddler over to the kitchen as well. In the midst of all this Adelphos had come back around and stuck his head into the kitchen window, exchanging words with Io who stroked his muzzle before setting about preparing some kind of food for the four people still in the house.  
Once Michelangelo was seat, Selvaggia being watched intently by not only Adelphos from the window but Ottium who stayed behind at the kitchen table, Matthew rejoined Io as she retrieved several disks of barely wheat biscuits, a couple of tomatoes, a small container of feta cheese, and a bottle of olives steeped in olive oil. Matthew watched with interest as the woman effortlessly slide this onto the counter tops before hitting a pan and letting it flip from its perch and directly into her waiting hand. It was then that she opened a cabinet, pulled out a match, turned up the stove gas, and proceeded to strike the match on a light board positioned nearby before carefully lighting the stove up. “Alright, Matthew. You ready for your task?” Io asked, placing the griddle on the stove to heat up as she cast a glance over her shoulder. Matthew nodded, surely very ready. It wasn’t like this wasn’t something he hadn’t done a thousand times over in the old kitchens of the college.  
“That’s the spirit I’m looking for— you go get the knife sharpener and I’ll get you a knife to dice the tomatoes with.” The knife sharpener... That was in one of the drawers as far as Matthew knew. As Io unscrewed the cap on the olives and poured a generous amount of oil into the heating pan Matthew went to find the knife sharpener. He had an idea of what they were making seeing as Io tended to make the same dishes over and over if they were well liked. Not enough that you got tired of them but enough that you got your fill. This particular dish he knew was one that he enjoyed. When the knife sharpener was located Matthew quickly went to Io who very casually passed a knife back to him without turning around. She was in the middle of toasting the biscuits. Matthew carefully took the knife and looked back to Micha who was currently entertaining himself by watching Selvaggia pounce after Ottium’s tail.  
Sharpening the knife was the easy part of the whole process. Having already washed his hands earlier Matthew was set to handle food and rolling the tomatoes that Io had brought out over to the cutting board was simple. Now, actually cutting the tomatoes? That was going to be a bit harder. Once Matthew had deemed the knife sharp enough he went to work with carefully dicing the tomatoes up. There were plenty of times where he ended up more crushing the tomato than cutting it but he did well enough that he didn’t just end up mashing them. By the time he had finished cutting the tomatoes and they had been scraped up and then drained, Io was already putting them onto the toasted biscuits and Matthew was left to crumble the cheese while Io gave the olives a quick rinse.  
“And we’re done! Perfect. Ah, ah. Wait-- The olive on top.” And as the crumbled feta was sprinkled generously over the diced and sliced tomato on the olive oil cooked biscuits Io stopped to press a single black olive on top of it and then brought her fingertips to her mouth, kissing them and making a gesture outwards.  
“Perfecto.” Matthew was just about to give a compliment on the craftsmanship of the meal when he was met with a sight he hadn’t expected. It was a surprise to Matthew, but not at all to Michelangelo who was watching them eagerly at this time. Io had tugged a breast free from her dress and was itching herself casually before pulling the fabric back over herself. Matthew, having never exactly seen such a display or sight before, was dumbstruck. He wasn’t sure if he should have looked away or perhaps said something? Maybe excuse himself? In the end he just stared at Io who looked back at him strangely for his gawking before realizing her mistake. Green eyes widening she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by embarrassed laughter.  
“Oh my good gods—Matthew, I am so sorry! I keep forgetting you aren’t mine sometimes, did you know? Ai me, that must have been something. Forgive me, child! I didn’t mean to be immodest to you. Then again, a child you are. Be sure not to hold this against me when you’re grown.” Matthew wasn’t even sure what to say to this and rather just nodded along and pretended he had any idea what Io was talking about.  
“Yes, Missus Io… Is, uh. Is lunch ready now?” Io, now making sure her dress was pulled up properly and fixing herself so as to make sure it didn’t slip down, nodded surely and plopped several more olives onto other biscuits to top them off. Micha at this point was laughing shrilly and excitedly again, Selvaggia currently hanging off of Ottium’s tail stubbornly as the feline daemon turned circles on the table top. Adelphos gave a low groaning sound and called out to Selvaggia to leave Ottium be while Io loaded lunch onto a tray and called for Herakles to come if he wished to eat this noon. Luckily there were surely two ways to lure Herakles in—one being food and the other being a promise for a good place to sleep. The young man was quick to reemerge, now dressed back into clean clothes and seemingly completely alert for once. Rhea bounced along at his heels, tongue lolling from her mouth and ears perked up.  
“Good, good. All of us are here? Make sure you leave a bit of your meal behind, children. Just for goodness sake.” By goodness sake Matthew knew that Io meant as some kind of offering. Io said she was a good Christian woman but he had seen her push portions of food to flame and ask for good blessing from gods and goddesses whose names Matthew only wished he could remember. He’d seen Herakles partake in this as well although the Vargas brothers did not do this so often if not by their mother’s request. Matthew had no mind with it as he saw it being respectful to Io Vargas’ faith; he did still question it at times. And so lunch began and was quickly finished off with hungry vigor, the best remains of the dish saved to the side for a small fire to be stoked later.  
It was a little bit after the last morsels of food were pushed to the fire that Alfred and the twins reappeared. They seemed thoroughly disappointed that nobody had saved them any food and as if to make a point their daemons took the form of birds and went to peck at the crumbs left behind. This proved to backfire against the three avian formed daemons as Ottium went pouncing after them, batting them about with scoffs and scowls. Matthew merely gave a passive remark about running off and shrugged which seemed to upset Alfred briefly as he made a face at Matthew over it. In the end Alfred did migrate back over to Matthew, asking him sweetly to please, please, get him something to eat when Io turned her back around. Not that Matthew didn’t care for the trust Io had in him but Alfred could be strangely persuasive at times.  
When Alfred and Matthew exited the house to sit outside in the sunlight the younger of the two had snuck the older a couple of untoasted biscuits and called it good. While they were sitting out there they ended up talking again. Not about the magic skeleton as they had been before but more along the lines of what the three older boys had run off to do. At first Alfred was secretive about it before Matthew oh so casually bat his eyelashes and gave his best pleading please. As it turns out the boys had initially just run off but ended up down by the river again, this time watching a ship that Feliciano and Lovino seemed to know by heart. Alfred explained that the boat belonged to a bunch of traders by the last name of Hassan. Apparently they came from some place in the south called the Nile Lands and rumor had it that they were some kind of ancient royal bloods whose line had been dethroned when the people of another land came and settled there.  
Matthew was impressed with the story and automatically identified these Nile Lands as being Egypt. So they were African traders. That sounded interesting. With a pause Matthew asked how Feliciano and Lovino knew which boat they were and knew about these Hassan people so well. Alfred himself had to think on this as he scratched his head absently and hummed. From what he could gather, the leader of the traders was an old friend of Io’s. Or, so they thought she was a friend. Apparently the strange woman had a son who had been close with Herakles back when the eldest son was an only child. They had left for a very long time before coming back to Oxford a little after Micha was born. The more Matthew heard the more interested he was with these trader people. Had Alfred seen what they looked like? He hadn’t. He said the ship had just been coming in, some kind of tough dark wood painted and tarred.  
Eventually their chatter about the Traders Hassan ended up slowing to a halt as they both sat back against the stone wall of the house and listened to the world around them. Today had been the usual busy day of stalking around Oxford spying on other small groups of children that patrolled their own little ‘territories’ as the three brothers called it. It was all a big fun game almost. Checking your territory and invading others’, claiming it as your own, and defending it. Then their own little mud fight, and the game of chasing and hiding that had happened before that. Couple that up with the dock adventures that Alfred and the twins had indulged in and the day seemed like it had been used to its maximum. The pleasant treat of returning to the college and snooping around the underground tunnels still presented itself but at the time Matthew and Alfred both felt in need of a nice nap. Ottium had successfully hopped over Alfred’s legs and taken a seat in Matthew’s lap, morphing into the form of a short haired rabbit and curling into a ball there with just his ears poking up. Lysimanche seemed content nesting in Alfred’s hair in the form of a finch as the older blond quite literally started to nod off, arms folded across his chest.  
When Io woke them abruptly and told them to go home and nap rather than rest outside like that the two of them got up unsteadily, Matthew cradling a still half asleep Ottium in his arms, and started their way back to the college. Several times there they bumped against one another or heaved great yawns that were barely contained. There was a bit of an altercation involving Alfred getting caught trying to slip in through the bars but with a bit of tugging the older blond was pulled through and the two made blind haste to get to their room where they both promptly collapsed on the bed and ended up asleep within minutes. It was several minutes after they both succeeded in falling into deep but dream filled slumbers that Francis came slipping into the room, Britainny loping along briskly at his side. The man had been in the middle of saying something but when he saw Alfred and Matthew were actually in the room and not only that but asleep he immediately went silent.  
Tucking a strand of hair back that seemed to forever make its way out of his ribbon, Francis let a small smile slip onto his face as he gave his daemon a look as she circled around the bed the boys were occupying and rested her front paws on the cover top to peer at them. He could only guess that the two must have been out almost the entire day thus far. Joining Britainny at the bedside Francis gave a soft sigh and folded his hands behind his back. The two children had situated themselves on the bed in a way that was overall just amusing. Matthew had curled up on his side; Ottium nestled into his stomach and away from Alfred. Alfred himself was lying on his back, head turned away with an arm tossed over his face and his other hand gripping loosely to the back of Matthew’s shirt. Lysimanche had taken the form of a small mutt dog and was sprawled over Alfred’s stomach, back leg sometimes kicking as her and Alfred shared some kind of dream.  
Francis admittedly had warmed up immensely to the idea of the two boys being around one another. Even if on the occasion Matthew would come to Francis with some strange wound gotten from rough housing the two took good care of each other in a way that really nobody else in the college could provide for them. Not to mention the dim satisfaction of knowing that another generation of Bonnefoy’s and Kirkland’s had managed to come together. Even with the seemingly impossible odds. This brought Francis to another thought… How was Arthur going to react to this? The mindlessly pleasant smile that had found its way on the middle aged scholar’s face was interrupted with a sudden frown as his brown dipped together. Britainny gave a sudden low aggravated sound, tail whipping as her head swung in Francis’ direction.  
He met her gaze and returned her sound with his own fretful noise before leaving the side of the bed and turning to pace the room. It was bad enough that Arthur had decided to be late. Not that the man was usually late when it came to business, as that was what he was coming here for, but it would only make it harder to break the news about this to him without suffering some kind of awful fit of anger that would likely follow. Dear, dear, Arthur Kirkland. Francis did care about the man, and had always considered him extremely important to himself, almost like family, even if Arthur surely had many older siblings to account for. But things like that changed over time no matter how many letters were written or moments shared. Arthur had becoming far too absorbed in his work and the scorn he held for—  
Francis’ thoughts were interrupted by Britainny who butted in, voice soft and low so as to not wake the boys or their daemons.  
“You and I, Francis... We both know the truth of this. Mathieu is no boy he wants near Alfred. The blood in him has and always will be no more than sludge to that man. If anything it is best he does not know of Mathieu.” This did not help Francis settle any. Arthur would be here in a few days time and he could only hope at this point. It was bad enough he felt the tension growing. Two forces were bound to clash together and anybody who had laughed at him when he said this would surely be swallowing their own tongue when it finally came about. When Matthew suddenly gave a low groan and turned over, leaving Ottium to shift down blindly and reposition himself behind the boy’s knees, Francis ceased all thought and went back to watching the two boys.  
The idea of sleep was a tempting one and surely an escape from his troubled thoughts but the man didn’t have the time to do so. He would soon be returning back to work. Maybe a quiet stroll through the gardens would help him ease up. No shame in at least trying. Hand outstretched as Francis started on the way out of the room, the two exited silently—Britainny butting her head up into Francis’ waiting hand with a low chirring noise. The shift in view of the unraveling story shifted from the boys once more as Francis closed the door as quietly as possible behind him and then continued down the hallway and to the stairwells. The halls of the college were mostly empty as it was midday and most were either in the library or in lectures. There were possibly others out doing experiments and the likes of that as well. This left Francis and Britainny in an almost suffocating silence that had the trimmings of anxiousness.  
Robes shed and tossed over his shoulder as he left the building, Francis took a deep breath and let out an uncharacteristic moan of complaint. The stress this was putting on him was unbearable! He had done plenty already in his life raising and teaching these boys and keeping an eye on them the best he could and it seemed the older they got the more complicated things became. Perhaps he should have listened to Britainny about the matter those months ago. The lioness said nothing about this thought and rather let Francis think to himself. Of course Francis knew he was merely being selfish with such a thought. He couldn’t blame the children for this and he damn well knew there was nobody really to blame here for this. It was just how things were lining up.  
With his mind in troubled places Francis ended up with a brisk pace which brought him to the gardens in no time. No improvement ended up being made to his mood while he was walking and before he knew it he had made his way to the roses and quickly taken a seat there. Britainny still paced back and forth before him and he watched her as she did so, hands knitting together only to come apart again as Francis quietly lost himself into his thoughts. It was really a shame, all of this. There was so much to think about all at once. The beginnings of rumors, the growing tensions of the college and the church, the news of unrest in Panserbjorn Kingdom, the sudden diplomatic emergence of the lands in the Far East, and even the strange movement patterns of the Witches—it all seemed to be happening at once which to Francis could be no coincidence. He was not a silly fan. He had been a go-lucky youth back in simpler times but said times had been long ago; now he was just a tired old man.  
Thinking back on his youth helped to alleviate some of the stress Francis was facing presently and as he gazed on at Britainny whose feverish pacing had slowed minutely he thought back to before she had settled and just exactly how she had done so. Ah, those good times. Back when he was young and dumb and he could recline with friends and have no cares in the world. Britainny had been late to settle, something that wasn’t exactly uncommon and given Francis’ nature even more understandable. He had been almost nineteen (an age at which most were married) by the time Britainny chose her form and as he recalled it had happened some late summer night when the first skims of autumn were edging their way through the heat haze and sun blaze. He had been with Arthur that night, just another lazy time where they sat and entertained one another with rants and bantering and even the occasional bit of sparring if things got particularly heated. In the present, Britainny had stalked her way over to Francis and was pushing her head against his knees with a low rumbling noise of unknown emotion.  
Back in Francis’ head, the memory kept playing as he ran a hand over his daemon’s head. It hadn’t been the first night where things had been a bit off. Arthur’s daemon had settled early. Surprisingly early all would say, even for his families’ history. She had taken the form of a great loping canine with a short bristling coat the color of copper and poppy flowers—a great ridge of fur rose along her spine and she bore a personality fit for a true hunter. The advances had started subtle at first, the usual back and forth with little dropped hints as Arthur narrowed his eyes in Francis’ direction so obviously that the older Frenchman had just ended up making strange faces back at him and making snide comments about it. The younger English-born boy had always badgered Francis about being irresponsible and fickle and that was why Britainny never settled. Britainny, being the coy and sarcastic thing she was back then, had always made a fair point to change form every couple of minutes when in the company of Arthur. It had been very sudden when said young man grabbed Francis’ by the chin and got right in his face and told him straight up that he was going to settle him.  
The events that had transpired afterwards were things Francis didn’t dare to think over for fear he might get truly melancholic. Needless to say, Britainny surely did settle that night and no greater irony had there ever been than when Francis found out the exact breed of canine that Arthur’s daemon was; she was a Zimbabwean Lion Hound—a breed specifically meant to take down the kings of the jungle. At times Francis had to wonder if it was this fact that had to do with the form Britainny chose that night. Britainny herself had insisted that at the time it had just felt fitting and afterwards she decided to stay that way. That changing from her new form was just not needed. The mysteries of settlement still bewildered Francis and the fact he couldn’t even understand his own settling was even more confusing.  
Coming back to the present briefly, Francis leaned over himself to press his face into the side of his daemon’s muzzle as she sighed through her nose and placed both front paws on his knees. The next memory was a bit less bittersweet and a little more sweet and sour. The day that Arthur had come to Francis with Alfred had been a normal one. He had received no forewarning about it, unsurprisingly, and when he the last minute arrival of the then rising star Arthur Kirkland had been announced Francis was embarrassed to say that he had been moderately excited. Arthur and Francis had just barely managed to keep in touch with letters and telegrams; even then it was mostly Francis writings things only to scrap them and send something a little less sappy in its stead. The sheer joyous alarm of hearing that Arthur had come just to speak to him had damn near caused Francis’ head to spin. Had his old friend really come around just to maybe sit, share a drink, and reminisce? The crushing disappointment felt when he was met by Arthur clumsily clutching a baby to his chest was something that still haunted the aging man slightly.  
Arthur had passed Alfred over without much care if even maybe a bit too eagerly, the twinge of fear present in his weary green gaze something entirely foreign to Francis. He had drunken a lot that afternoon while speaking quickly and curtly, often stopping what he was doing to pace to and fro while he rubbed a hand along his jaw line. His daemon sat perfectly still, staring at Britainny and then at Francis. Ah, and Lysimanche. She had simply been a puff ball of yellow feathers; she was merely a daemon that had occupied a simple shape and did not yet know enough of the world to change. The form of a duckling was one she occupied until Alfred turned two and both he and she got a grasp on the idea of changing. But ah, how Arthur had looked at that child. His own blood, almost as if being in the mere presence of the child seemed to singe him slightly. Plant a seed of doubt and worry. They got gotten in a fight later that noon. Things had been said and before either of them had known it they were throwing punches. Arthur had been able to easily incapacitate Francis at that time; the winner of the fight was unclear even still. So with a split lip, a bruised cheek, and a rib that just wouldn’t stop aching, Francis had put Alfred to bed that night in a make-shift crib. He didn’t sleep at all.  
The bad memory left behind a terrible taste in his mouth and all Francis could do was take a deep breath and grip tightly to Britainny’s fur as she tried to provide some kind of comfort. Memories often hurt but at the moment they seemed better than the anxiety inducing present. There were many memories that Francis had of Alfred growing up and Arthur occasionally showing up. The awkward exchanges as Alfred, as bright as he was, grew quickly to know that Arthur was not there to be his family. He was there to check in on his progress and assure himself that Alfred would be following the path that he had set out for the boy. Francis supposed that was the closest that Arthur could get to some kind paternal care and watched it all unfold silently. The strained and bizarre meetings the two had together where Arthur would test him with scenarios and equations. Alfred often got extremely upset with himself if he could not answer Arthur and all the man could offer in response was an impersonal glance of half-pity and a ‘better luck next time, boy’.  
Francis had no place to judge Arthur. He just wasn’t parent material; hell, neither of them was. Arthur was a busy business man who held a high position of influence over many regions of the world and Francis was a scholar for God’s sake. There had to have been somebody else but there wasn’t. Francis had been forced to pass Matthew, his own family as it was, to Mikyla. And a damned good job she had done with the boy—even if Alfred’s influenced had changed him over time Matthew was still a good boy and Francis highly doubted if the child would ever grow out of it completely. He owed a good deal to that woman and he doubted there was much he could do to make it up to her. Francis was jolted back into the present by the sound of footsteps and then the abrupt chime of the half hour. Looking up and blinking away the blur in his eyes Francis was met with the sight of his good friend and fellow scholar, Antonio. Smoothing Britainny’s fur out Francis managed to give the younger man a weary smile and laughed weakly.  
“Antonio, what are you doing out here hm? Come to enjoy the good weather while it lasts?”  
“Ah, of course I have. Don’t you know that Arthur Kirkland’s mere presence brews monsoons and wind storms? No, my friend. I came out to check on you. I figured you would be out here—you’ve been very uptight lately. Is it because of him?” Antonio, appearing daemon-less, merely had his dear animal tucked away in his clothes. She was a rather zealous canary that enjoyed singing songs in the silence of the library for no other reason but her own enjoyment but at almost all other times she preferred to hide herself away in the man’s clothes. Taking a seat by Francis and careful to avoid brushing Britainny the foreign scholar propped his elbow on the armrest and put his cheek on his knuckles.  
“You seem to know me better than I know me at this time, Antonio… But yes. It is him. When is it not about him at this point? Everything, it’s all Arthur now.” There was a tad bit of scorn in Francis’ tone that he found himself not regretting all that much as the small smile on Antonio’s tanned face widened minutely and shook his head.  
“You need better hobbies than stressing over that man, Francis. I swear that if it weren’t for that boy you two would have no ties. The relationship is over.” Although the older man knew his friend was trying to help, his words were no comfort and sent a dull pain through his chest. Of course, it might’ve been because he knew this was partially true.  
“I suppose you are right… But until Alfred is grown there is nothing for me to do. And we all know that even then Arthur will likely try to make me his mentor!” Exasperation found its way into Francis’ words as he threw his hands up in a gesture of sheer defeat. Antonio reached out and pat the blond on the arm with a sympathetic grimace before Francis spoke again. “Antonio, I’m getting too old for this.”  
“You are only a decade older than I, Francis. If you are old, then our superiors might very well be the forefathers of this dreadful country.”  
“Say such things elsewhere, Antonio. Your abhorrence for all of England is legendary in lands even farther than Elkhelm! Now isn’t the time to go about missing your own lands if you plan to make me feel any better!” A spot of desperation was starting to stain Francis’ tone as he off-handedly waved Antonio off for the passive jabbing. The man raised his hands in defense and gave a resigned shrug before folding his arms loosely over his chest.  
“Alright, alright. I will keep my thoughts to myself, Francis. Thus, still stands that you have simply been through enough of Arthur Kirkland to last a Witch five lifetimes and now it’s all catching up to you. Seeing as I have only met the man on a couple of occasions and could not stand him I am still in awe you were ever friends. There’s no use driving a sword through an already dead bull, my father said.”  
“Your life lessons aren’t helping all that much, my friend.”  
“I suppose you cannot say I didn’t make an attempt.”  
“I’ll give you that, that’s for sure.” Antonio managed to laugh at this prompting a slightly aggravated look from Francis who had put his head in both hands while Britainny rubbed her face into his leg. With another pat on the back from Antonio and a light twittering noise from somewhere in the man’s clothes the darker skinned scholar stood. “It pains me that I can’t be of any help to you, Francis. Just keep what I said in mind? You have better friends here among the college than you do in that man.”  
“Just go, Antonio. I’ve heard enough.” Staring at Francis for several more seconds before giving a respectful nod, Antonio took his leave in silence. It wasn’t any use. It really did upset him slightly that Francis was incapable of shrugging this off with his usual nonchalance—which truly meant he was being torn up. Antonio could only hope that his friend would be alright. On the flipside, Francis’ heart only felt heavier than before. The dull pulse of panic had left him but in its stead it had given way to a deep feeling of dread and sadness. It was not fair in the slightest, Francis repeated back to himself. It just wasn’t fair.  
Francis stayed in the gardens past the hour mark and he would not have the motivation to even lift himself from the bench until three hour chimes had passed. By this time the boys were well awake and back at it if only until dinner was called. Mikyla made a surprise visit for the boys, Matthew in particular, under request of Antonio. Francis still needed time as it seemed and the boys weren’t yet old enough to join the scholars in the dining hall—so Mikyla it was who brought them food to their room. She walked in on quite the scene she did, almost reeling backwards and tripping over her own daemon with a great hearty laugh that damn near startled the two boys out of their skins. The boys had been quite wrapped up in some kind of charades game and when the woman entered the whole thing came to a screeching halt. When Matthew registered who it was that had entered the room a bright smile split upon his face; Alfred watched in confusion.  
“Missus Mikyla! What are you doing over here, ma’am?” Careful to not drop anything even as Matthew came up to her for a hug, Mikyla gave her own smile as Maximus bounced forward to meet Ottium who had bounded over and turned an excited circle on the spot, his current form that of a large hare. Alfred watched, confusion growing by the second but a slim sliver of understanding starting to probe into his thoughts.  
“Why, isn’t it obvious? I came to keep you two fed. Bring it around the table, boys. Ah! But this must be Alfred? Keeping a good eye on Matthew, right, young man?” Automatically Alfred seemed to decide he liked this Missus Mikyla and gave a sure nod, flashing a short grin at Matthew who had to keep from grinning back at the other kid. The food and drinks, balanced in that ever skillful and graceful way that all the hand-servants seemed to be able to pull off, was carried over to the table by the window and set down. The meals were simple and consisted of a thick cream of chicken with chunks of chicken breast coupled with steamed white rice and broccoli coated in cheese. On the side were two cookies each wrapped in napkins with a glass of milk and a glass of water. Alfred was the first to slide into a chair, seeming to realize that he hadn’t eaten any proper meal since that morning and was surely famished. Matthew followed soon after him and gave a small grace before quickly picking up a spoon form the tray and tugging a bowl over.  
“You two wouldn’t mind if I just were to sit here and wait for you to be done, yes?” There was no clear answer, only muffled words that likely meant that it was fine if she stayed around. In the middle of eating their meals, the two boys decided that then would be a good time to start picking food off one another’s plates. Alfred went straight for Matthew’s main dish while the latter got to picking at the other boy’s broccoli. There were several small utensil fights where Matthew stuck the lip of his spoon into the prongs of Alfred’s fork and flipped the fork out of his hand repeatedly when the older blond tried to take some of his broccoli from him. In the background Lysimanche and Ottium were playing with Maximus who, despite all attempts to remain serious and hardworking usually, was just as eager to play around with the other two daemons. While Lysimanche took the form of a small wild cat with large ears and a spot adorned coat, Ottium remained in the form of a hare and darted in loop-de-loops around the other two while they pounced one another and after him.  
When the meal was finished, water drunken, and the milk and cookies cleared away, Mikyla stepped forward and gathered all the silverware, china, and napkins up. Matthew thanked her and hesitantly asked if she had eaten already to which she answered yes she had. This put Matthew at ease automatically and he nodded along before Alfred bumped into him and almost knocked him over. Mikyla made sure that the boys agreed not to rough house too much before running her hand through Matthew’s hair a couple times, commenting on him needing a trim, and then wishing them both a good night and sweet dreams before leaving. Maximus lingered behind, seeming to be telling Lysimanche and Ottium something before the strain being put on him was too much and he was forced to go cantering after Mikyla who was calling for him.  
This left Matthew and Alfred alone with their daemons once more, now filled with good food and fully awake from their nap. There was a slight consideration of going back to visit the Vargas’ very briefly before coming back but it was dismissed in the end due to the fact it was getting late and they were likely eating supper themselves. After a short vote the two boys ended up sitting back down at the table and pulling out their studies. Matthew pulled out a book snuck out of the library while Alfred pulled out a stack of papers and got a pen. Side by side the two boys set to work, occasionally commenting on the others work or setting aside their own to team up together on something. Matthew was working on his French reading and writing while Alfred was occupied with advanced mathematics. The topic was going right over Matthew head with all the missing numbers and symbols and strange formulas and Alfred found himself not even attempting to figure out any of Matthew’s work and rather just listened to him as the boy practiced speaking. Alfred thought that Matthew learning another language was downright criminal. Especially since it was a language that Francis knew too. What if they started talking about stuff in French? He would have no idea what they’re saying. But on the other hand the way Matthew barely ever faltered when he spoke in another tongue was mesmerizing to the older boy. In English Matthew’s voice was airy and a bit on the weaker side, only becoming stronger when the younger blond was really truly sure of himself. In French it was different. His tone dropped lower if only minutely and he definitely was louder. Even if Alfred had no idea what the Hell he was saying, the boy still enjoyed hearing Matthew practice. On the flip side, Matthew’s stance on Alfred’s logical capabilities was borderline mind blown.  
Matthew, for the life of him, could not get what made Alfred so advanced in the fields of mathematics. The older child had even taken up chemistry as of late and some of the things he said absolutely boggled Matthew beyond coherent thought. He didn’t even know what he didn’t know when it came to the subject. From making calculated jumps from rooftops to knowing just how hard and what angle to throw a glob of mud—Alfred was some kind of super genius when it came to anything that he could put mathematics into. The two boys always found some reason to respect one another, embracing each other’s good traits and achievements over the bad and the ugly. As it was, they had found plenty of things they didn’t have in common.  
Alfred had a tendency to sometimes let a budding superiority complex shine through even if he made attempts to be modest, and at other times Matthew’s newly acquired sass could be a painful as the lash of a whip. While both boys worked hard, Matthew was more likely to do something even if he didn’t want to while Alfred would almost immediately switch to doing something else if his interest faded. Alfred didn’t take to being told he was wrong about something and Matthew’s infinite patience and level-headedness often led to Alfred making conscious, and on occasions nasty, attempts to get under the boy’s skin. They only worked part the time; when it did Alfred usually quick to repair the damage done.  
But even with their head-butting and unintentional meanness the two maintained a well off and fruitful friendship. What had started as merely being a relationship based on the fact they were the only two kids in all of the college had blossomed into something a bit more wholesome and sturdy. Who was more thankful for this, Alfred or Matthew-- was unknown. In the end neither of them would be the same person they were in the present if it hadn’t been for the other. So sitting there content with one another’s company, Matthew occasionally saying something aloud and Alfred stopping periodically to stretch his fingers and back, the two boys worked on their chosen assignments until the hour struck nine. Of their own accord the two started to pack their things back away, casting glances past one another as their daemons hopping in a tight circle one after the other. Changing time had always been an interesting time for the two of them. Matthew was still slightly bashful about the whole process, already at his young age comparing his own body to Alfred’s with a twinge of jealousy. He was still much too slender for his own liking now that he had more kids to compare himself to. He knew that growing up would help the case but the process seemed to take an awfully long time. With puberty looming on the horizon several things had already started to change but none of the changes were happening fast enough. In the end, Matthew would just have to wait. After all—Alfred was three years older than him. He shouldn’t be comparing at all; It was just something that happened. Like puberty.  
While Matthew was thinking over when he would start to grow, Alfred was wondering when this whole thing would be over. From what Francis had told him he understood that the pain and weird lumps popping up on his chin were acne and that he had to start washing his face more. That he’d probably start growing again and it might lead to pain in his joints. Then the ever favorite one that he still didn’t understand properly—something about specific changes happening and that Alfred would know what he was talking about soon enough; that when he noticed this stuff occurring to come and talk to him about it. So far Alfred had literally no clue what Francis had been talking about and so the matters remained un-discussed.  
With night clothes now on and the day surely winding down to a close the boys retreated to their beds, daemons at their heels. There was absent chatter while they sat on their beds, not yet ready to go down to sleep and the last few rituals of the night not complete. Their conversation had turned back to the catacomb-like tunnels under the college again and sincere but wild theories on what else could be down there.  
“You don’t think there are any vampires living under there, right?” This question was thrown out by Matthew who was hugging Ottium to his chest and seemed all but genuinely concerned about the possibility of blood suckers lurking nearby. Alfred shook his head with a grin.  
“No way! I would have totally exposed them by now, you know.”  
“Ah-huh? But you’ve never been down there…”  
“Would have caught on. Just saying.”  
“Oh? Well, I guess we will see… You know, I heard that there are preserved body parts down there. Freaky, right?”  
“Ew, gross! Where did you even hear that?” Alfred’s face screwed up in disgust as he tugged at the collar of his night shirt while curling further in on himself. Recently his usual night clothes had become a bit too tight but he didn’t feel like removing it and he hadn’t had the chance to tell Francis yet. Matthew didn’t appear to notice and if he did he wasn’t letting on so neither commented.  
“You know, around places.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Mmhm. There are cows and pigs and sheep… I heard even a couple of humans too. All chopped up and turned to pickles—“  
“Gross, gross, gross! Cut it out! That’s so nasty!” Matthew couldn’t help but laugh as Alfred made a dry gagging noise and covered his face, shaking his head rapidly with a loud disgusted whine.  
“Okay, okay! Try not to get queasy when we find all the jars—“  
“Matthew!”  
“Alfred!” This seemed to set the balance off as Alfred hopped up from his bed and crossed the short distance to Matthew alarmingly quick, pouncing up onto the covers and pushing the young boy over before holding him there. Face puckered up, Alfred gave something halfway between a sneer and a smile as Matthew continued to grin up at him.  
“Don’t look so happy, would you? What if I just sat on you or something huh?” This seemed to make Matthew grin harder, laughter bubbling up out of him as he repositioned himself to lie on his back, legs pressed together and arms folded over his chest.  
“Of course you wouldn’t, right? What if I just popped.” Alfred’s face only skewed more at the notion as he shifted to where Matthew’s legs were between his own and he had his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders.  
“Popped. No way would you pop—I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”  
“How sure?” The challenge was made intentionally to lure Alfred into an infuriating game of back and forth. Matthew’s smile told the whole story because he knew exactly what he was doing and Alfred had already taken the lure.  
“Like, at least eighty-seven percent sure! People don’t just pop because they get sat on.”  
“How do you know?” Alfred’s fingers curled into Matthew’s night shirt as the soon to be pre-teen’s eyes narrowed into blue slits. Matthew’s pale brown eyebrows merely arched up as he tilted his head slightly, hair splayed out beneath his head.  
“Is this a trick question?” The hesitance and frustration was evident in Alfred’s voice already and Matthew couldn’t lie—He was enjoying himself.  
“No, I am being… one hundred percent sincere.” At this point Alfred seemed almost insulted. Matthew could barely contain his laughter and the second it sprouted out of him, clear and trilling, Alfred hopped off of the younger boy and shook his head with a scowl.  
“You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you?”  
“Maybe, I mean it’s entirely possible I could be doing something.” Matthew sat up now, trying to contain his laughter while he ran a hand through his hair. Alfred only flashed a short lived aggressive smile before leaning back on his bare heels, chest pushed out and hips back as he folded his arms over his chest.  
“You know what, Matthew?”  
“Mm?” Matthew took note of Alfred’s newly adopted stance, gaze wandering up and down as his smile softened to only a bare quirk of his lips. Alfred was about to issue a challenge that he knew beforehand he would win.  
“Tomorrow morning we’re going to race okay? From here to the agriculture building… and back.” Matthew knew it. He had definitely gotten a bit more athletic and in shape since moving in with Alfred but the older boy still had the upper hand on him. A race wouldn’t be too hard but the agriculture building was a long ways away and then to run back? It sounded ludicrous. Almost dangerous even—could either of them run that far? Matthew didn’t voice this and rather cocked his head to the side, face relaxed and hair falling into his eyes. Alfred just gave a cocky grin and a jerk of his own head to signal it was time for them to scuttle off to the wash basin in their room and brush their teeth before bed. Without complaint or really anything said at all Matthew crawled from his bed and followed after Alfred, skipping slightly to catch up with the older boy.  
The brushing of teeth and last minutes face cleaning on Alfred’s part was over and done with, the chilled water and now dirtied water left to be changed in the morning. When the lamps were extinguished, the windows checked, and the curtains drawn the two boys went to settle in their beds for the night. Matthew gave a soft goodnight to Alfred through the solid darkness and turned onto his side, back to the other bed. Ottium hopped up onto the bed soon after in the form of a feline, per his usual form when bedtime came around, and went to curl up by Matthew’s head. Silence weighed down between the two as they nodded off slowly to sleep; in his head Matthew was counting. Just waiting… After around ten minutes there was the sound of creaking and movement, shuffling, and then a weight settled on the bed behind Matthew.  
Alfred’s strange habit of randomly moving to a different place entirely before finally going to sleep wasn’t new, as Matthew would find out later, but admittedly the first time the older boy had simply crawled into bed with him had surprised him. At this point he expected it. Alfred never said anything about it so Matthew didn’t either. One night Matthew had even climbed out of bed and gone to sleep in Alfred’s now unoccupied one but the other boy hadn’t done anything. He’d just continued to snooze away. So now as Alfred laid down behind him and turned this way and that to find a comfortable position, Lysimanche perched on the bed post in the form of a now very much asleep bird that couldn’t be identified in the dark, Matthew just let it happen and moved his head to rest on Ottium. In no time flat the two, now situated, had fallen asleep. And so the dreams began…  
  
Matthew’s dream began very suddenly. Akin to when you blink your eyes right before the lights come on in a pitch dark room. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t quite him. He was him, but there was definitely something different. He was looking at everything like a horse with blinder might, having to turn his head in order to get a clear view of anything. The ground was farther away than he remembered it being yet his feet still firmly planted on the floor. Or he was fairly certain they were his feet. Ignoring the strange sensation spreading this mock dream self’s limbs and the strangeness of his current state in general, Matthew looked around more. It was dim in this dream, some source of light barely there and when Matthew looked up all he saw was fog. It was at this point he felt something he automatically registered as fear. Sharp and cutting and coming from seemingly nowhere; it caused him to start spinning in circles as if searching for something, anything, to explain why he suddenly felt this way. In the end he span past her three times before coming to an abrupt halt.  
In his dream Matthew could feel his throat closing, but in all reality he was fine. He was simply asleep, having a bad dream. But in said dream he felt like he was suffocating just looking at the girl in front of him. He felt a bit like he might be looking at someone who would count as his twin. The girl had the same soft face, the same wavy blonde hair with a couple of wild curls. She had the same strange blue-violet eyes that he did and even the mellow resting face. But when they locked eyes her face hardened and she grew still, her shortly cut blonde hair seeming to spread unnaturally like an animal’s fur might stand on end and her otherwise pretty face splitting into an ugly scowl. Before Matthew could do anything she grabbed him by the shoulder and spoke to him.  
“You’ve done it now.” Automatically everything shifted to darkness— a crushing darkness of dreamlessness and yet fitfulness. In the waking realm, Ottium’s front paw kicked out and scraped Matthew across the forehead slightly as the boy’s face screwed up. It seemed like little time passed from one dream to the next, each one with that same girl in it. Each one, right after the other, was more cryptic than the last. In the final dream Matthew was standing in the middle of a forest clearing before an extinguished fire. When he looked down he saw a dark liquid in the dirt and two stubs of something he couldn’t quite make sense of. That’s when someone, likely the girl from the rest of his dreams, took hold of his face from behind and forced him to look up. When he did he was met face to face with pale skin, wide dark eyes, and what he barely registered as platinum blonde hair before he was being shaken. Shaken by whom, he couldn’t tell. Just shaken.  
“Matthew!” Alfred’s voice finally snapped Matthew awake, forcing the boy to open his eyes no matter how bleary they were and face the morning sun. Francis was standing by the washing basin, seeming to be fixing his hair or something of the sorts; Alfred was already dressed and almost hopping on top of him with urgency.  
“Matthew, get up! The race is cancelled— Get up, get up!”  
“Mon dieu—Alfred, don’t jump on him! Matthew, it is time to wake up. Get up, get dressed, and clean up. I need you both out and doing something—I don’t care what! Out of your room, studies are cancelled.” Head still spinning from his strange dream the young boy could hardly put together what was being said to him but managed to push Alfred off and sit up all the same. Ottium was already fretfully cleaning his fur now, green eyes peering about the room. From Lysimanche who was all atwitter doing loop-de-loops midair and Britainny who seemed the most stressed of them all, pacing the floor with her tail whipping around and her ears pushed back, there was a sense of energy.  
Alfred was quick to rebound from being shoved off the smaller blond and was back to the mirror, fusing at himself and trying to wash his face for what was probably the fifth time that morning alone. Matthew took note of how bright everything was and how both Francis and Alfred seemed ready for some kind of big day and concluded he must’ve been woken up late. That was when pieces started to click together and in the middle of putting a fresh shirt on Matthew stopped altogether and gasped aloud. Today was his birthday. Turning to look at Francis and Alfred the boy merely gawked for a span of several seconds before his mouth snapped shut and he quickly got dressed with new found energy, his strange and otherwise troubling dreams forgotten almost automatically in place of this new excitement.  
Another year old at last! And this meant that tomorrow would be Alfred’s birthday as well. The whole span of thee next few days was going to be exciting no matter what. He had just barely managed to get out of racing Alfred, had been allowed to sleep in late, and now studies were cancelled. It was all too good. As Francis went practically jogging from the room, Britainny running ahead of him, Matthew went to the vanity this time and poured new water over before he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and grabbed a brush to start pulling it through his hair. Alfred, being as impatient as ever, hovered over his shoulder; Matthew watched him from the mirror before noticing something.  
“Alfred, your hair is wet.” The motions of the brush slowed as Matthew spoke, eyes narrowing slightly as he peered at Alfred’ through the looking glass. Alfred seemed caught off guard by this and took a moment to answer, doing so with a laugh and a nonchalant shrug.  
“I took a shower this morning. You know-- hygiene and all.” Automatically the younger boy’s eyebrows went up at the mention of a shower. Baths were usually taken considering the technology needed for showers was something that normally only scholars had access to in the college. Not to mention this wasn’t something Alfred had done before. Matthew held his tongue on the matter and opted to finish brushing his hair before rushing to tug his shoes on. The young boy noted that they were getting a bit tight as of late and wiggled his toes in them. Perhaps, with it being his birthday, he could convince Francis to get him new shoes.  
Alfred was back to bugging him mid-thought with no give. Tugging Matthew along by the arm the older boy near dragged his companion out of the room as Lysimanche flew ahead and Ottium ran after them in the form of, oddly enough, a bat. The two boys were descending the stairs before Matthew could process what was happening, trying to piece together what Alfred was in such a rush for. Sure, they had another free day but where could they possibly be going—  
“Jeez, you are like dead weight today! Pick up your feet would you?” At this point Matthew almost ended up head over heels as Alfred quite literally lept over the last four steps of the staircase, his grip still firm on the younger boy’s upper arm. When he found himself still upright Matthew was surprised. Of course he then realized he wasn’t the one holding him up and promptly found his feet, brushing Alfred’s hand off as his face started to burn. All the older boy could do was laugh, holding out his arm instinctively as Lysimanche came down and landed. Ottium came down from circling above them at this moment too, landing clumsily on Matthew’s back and climbing his way up to the boy’s shoulder.  
“What was that!?”  
“A wake up call I’m guessing! Come on, Matthew—we only have a small window of opportunity!” Before Matthew could open his mouth to say anything else Alfred was dragging him along again, Lysimanche hopping up off his arm. It was around this point in time that Matthew finally realized what was going on. They were going under the college today. He had almost forgotten entirely. This explained the urgency. A slight feeling of unease entered Matthew as he watched the hallways go by and occasionally murmured which direction to go in when Alfred faltered. Soon enough the two boys arrived at a heavy wooden door with iron detailing. It was likely as old as the college itself and had a heavy layer of dust over most of it, lighter layers covering places where people had perhaps opened or bumped against it months prior.  
“Here it is, finally. That took forever! You ready?” Alfred turned to Matthew, finally releasing the boy’s arm. Giving a sheepish smile the younger blond gave a nervous glance to the door and took a deep breath. Ottium was chittering anxiously in his ear about magic skeletons and vampire crypts, but with Alfred beaming away at him and Lysimanche peering from the older boy’s shoulder all Matthew could do was nod.  
“Yeah. I’m ready.” Alfred nodded sharply and turned to the door, making quick work of tugging and turning the old stubborn knob. When the door stuck, Matthew was almost ready to say that they should give up and go back. Or he was until Alfred gave a grunt and hard tug and the thing popped open. The dark corridor staircase was revealed, cobwebs hanging from the low ceilings and a dim line of blue light etched into the stone walls. Matthew could smell something sour, something bitter, and then something of a sickeningly sweet variety radiating from the dark stairwell. Swallowing hard and turning his head away to take a breath of fresher air, the boy clenched his eyes shut and grimaced.  
“Whew… Wonder what that smell is from…” Alfred was squinting into the darkness now, Lysimanche morphing into the form of an owl and staring down the steps into the pitch black areas. Ottium was chittering up a storm at this point, obviously anxious and not afraid to show such. Matthew was silent, unsure of what to say at all and simply took a heavy and hesitant step towards the doorway. Alfred was already descending now, not looking back but rather forward and by the time Matthew was starting to lose visibility, Alfred turn back to him from somewhere farther down in an even darker area and whispered harshly.  
“Hey, close that door!” Matthew opened his mouth to protest before snapping it shut at the sound of people walking and quickly went to go close it. The second he did so the two boys were thrown into complete darkness. Blinking rapidly, Matthew’s eyes struggled to try and gain visibility in the suffocating blackness of the hall and when it proved to no avail he timidly squeaked and called out to Ottium. The daemon, still in the form of a bat, was at his side in an instant. Wings battering the air with near silence, Ottium attempted to put his echolocation to good use in this new setting only to find that the sound waves bounced off the stones wildly and only proved to disorientate more. It was then that Alfred spoke up.  
“Hey, Matthew? Hey, are you still up there? Hurry up, just follow the blue line.” Alfred’s voice was farther away than Matthew would have liked and he was quick to locate the faintly luminous line on the wall, hand tracing along it as Ottium flew tight circles around his head. Careful steps, one after the other, were taken. Occasionally Alfred would say something, indicating how close or faraway he was from Matthew. When the younger boy abruptly bumped into something warm and solid, he almost screamed. The noise came out as a high pitched whine of terror before a hand groped out in the dark and patted him awkwardly.  
“Oh, there you are—Jesus Christ, never make that noise again okay?”  
“It’s really really dark!” Was all Matthew could say in response, grasping tightly to the fabric of Alfred’s shirt and taking several shallow shaken breaths. It took Alfred a couple of tries to find Matthew’s head but once he did he gave the young boy a well meaning pat and a hesitant laugh.  
“Yeah, it is isn’t it…. If I had known it was going to be this dark I would have thought about bringing a lamp.”  
“See? This is why planning is a good idea! Plans! Like brainstorms and plot outlines and—“  
“You’re blabbering, be quiet! Somebody is going to hear us or something!” Automatically Matthew went silent, feeling Alfred moving again. How far did these stairs go down he wondered; Ottium answered silently back with a confirmation of only a little farther down. Steeling himself with a deep breath of the stinking air, Matthew let Alfred lead the way down the stair case until they came to a sudden stop. They’d hit the bottom. Letting out the air he hadn’t realized he had been holding in, Alfred reached back and nudged Matthew to let go of him. The boy merely loosened his grip and didn’t completely let go.  
“There has to be some kind of… ending to this thing. The entire underground can’t just be pitch black with no lighting. Let’s keep walking. This place hasn’t gotten any wider so I think there must be another door at the end. That has to open up somewhere.” Matthew couldn’t think of a response, simply moving closer to Alfred and pressing his face into the older boy’s back with a heavy inhale. He smelled like soap and cotton which was much more pleasant than what could only be classified as reek and rot that was filtered into the air around them.  
“Just get us someplace where we can actually see, please.” The two ended up walking rather far down, Matthew occasionally lifting his head from Alfred’s back only to ponder on if his eyes were opened or closed at the moment. He could feel cobwebs in his hair and there was the sensation of prickling along the back of his neck that Matthew could only hope wasn’t a spider. When Alfred ended up walking into something with a sharp cry of pain Matthew found himself being forced to a stop as well. While the older boy groped blindly to figure out if he had hit dead end of a door, Ottium landed on the back of Matthew’s shirt and hung there with his wings folded tightly around him.  
“Found it!” A loud clicking noise was heard and seconds later both boys winced away from the light flooding in from the cavern that had been opened up before them. Matthew made the first move out into the open, infinitely relieved to be out of such a closed and dark space. Alfred took more time, blinking away the spots in his vision as he closed the door behind them. Lysimanche didn’t seem as bothered by the light but still insisted on making a show of tucking her head under her wing and shaking about.  
“Can we maybe never do that again? Ever?” Matthew breathed out, brushing away at his hair and body thoroughly. Alfred, although having been a bit affected by the uneasiness that the corridor had inflicted, merely laughed lightly and straightened up. Giving Matthew a lopsided smile, blue eyes crinkling slightly as he did so, the older boy shook his shoulders and spoke.  
“What? You weren’t scared of that were you? We haven’t even gotten to the magic skeletons and crazy vampire scholars!” Matthew gave a low whine of complaint, folding his arms tightly across his chest as his brow drew together. Alfred crossed the space between them and nudged the shorter child’s shoulder, head cocked and eyebrows up.  
“Oh, so you were? That explains the clinging! You want to hold my hand while we do this too? I promise I don’t mind.” The blunt teasing didn’t go unregistered by Matthew as his lips pursed together and his shoulders rose. Ottium fell from his back, skillfully managed to swoop back up into the air before fluttering around. When Matthew quite suddenly pushed Alfred in the stomach the bat daemon dove after Lysimanche. The still owl shaped Lysimanche was quicker to react to the action that Alfred was and dove off the wheezing boy’s shoulder as Ottium tried to grapple with her.  
“Ow! Okay, okay! I am going to take that as a no.” A sense of hurt pride now fueling his actions, Matthew was quick to turn the situation back on Alfred as he stepped away and folded his arms back over his chest.  
“Being scared is fine, got it? Now let’s go. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss feeding time with those vampires, would you? I’ll try not to ditch you, but you know how the hunt works. Always go for the bigger one.” And with these words, Matthew turned on his heels and started to stomp off in a random direction. Ottium, pleased with having spooked Lysimanche into ruffling, was quick to return to Matthew as the boy started down a lit corridor. Alfred had paled slightly from the implications of the younger boy’s words and merely looked to Lysimanche as she hurriedly flew back to his side and got as close to him as she possibly could in her current form. Promptly turning into a sparrow the daemon hopped up into Alfred’s hair and nestled there, not feeling so up to the challenge of this as she had before.  
“Hey… Hey, wait up!” Deciding to no longer dwaddling on what Matthew said Alfred ran after the angered blond, urgency in his step and the barest trace of fear starting to creep into his voice. When he caught up with the younger boy he was quick to try and repair what had just been done, offering a sheepish smile and a hesitant laugh.  
“You were, uh… Joking about the vampire thing right? You would not actually leave me… Right?”  
“Maybe.” Matthew’s answer was short and surprisingly cutting with how off-handed and aloof he suddenly seemed on the matter. Alfred recoiled slightly, alarmed at this and nudged the boy slightly.  
“No jokes! Come on, Matthew…”  
“Yeah, okay.” That answer wasn’t any better and left a bad taste in Alfred’s mouth as he swallowed dryly. Lysimanche gave a vague twittering noise to Ottium, a wordless question of if they should be taken seriously. The silence from the other daemon told her a clear yes and sobered Alfred’s mood up considerably. If they really did run into blood crazed vampires, would Matthew actually just leave him? Always go for the bigger one. Catching himself in the middle of his thoughts Alfred tried to swallow the fear down and merely looked ahead. Matthew was purposefully not meeting his gaze at the moment and he felt he might have accidentally gravely insulted the other child. As the two were walking, Alfred noticed something peculiar about the walls they were walking past and came to a halt.  
“Hey—Hey, Matthew. Hold up. Really, stop and look at this for a moment.” Matthew stopped several paces away and finally turned to face Alfred, brow drawn together and arms folded over his chest.  
“What.”  
“Don’t be like that, just-- come here!” Matthew was ready to stubbornly question why before caving in on his own curiosity pacing over to Alfred and looking to the point of the wall he was staring at. Automatically his interest was piqued. There on the wall was a small hexagon of a darker shade than the rest of the wall. It appeared to be a plaque of some sort and on it was a rather intricately made impression of an animal. Looking along the wall, Matthew noticed that there were actually many of these little plaques that had gone unnoticed to the two boys. There in the dust of the wall was also something that hinted at hinged hatches that the plates were attached to. Alfred was already prying at the hatch before them before Matthew intervened, something clicking in his head.  
“Alfred, no!” Automatically, now paying keen attention to the fear in Matthew voice, Alfred stopped his digging at the hatch mechanism and looked down in confusion.  
“What, what is it?”  
“I… I think these things are… graves.” Alfred’s jaw dropped as he took a step away from the spot in the wall and swayed slightly on the spot, eyes widening as he gave a low groan.  
“Oh God—you have to be kidding me!” Matthew stayed near the thing, staring at where Alfred had cleared the grime away only to quite abruptly reach out and bop the hexagon. The hatch sprung open at an alarming speed, startling both Alfred and Matthew by doing so. Inside was a hollow area about two feet tall and two wide by six feet long; there inside of this hollowed out space was a coffin. Alfred started to visibly quake as he watched Matthew, with morbid curiosity, reach inside and brush his hand over the coffin’s lid. “Cut that out would you? Stop touching it.” Matthew didn’t heed what his clearly unsettled companion was saying to him and rather gave a firm tug on the handle of the coffin. It budged surprisingly under his grip and slid part the way out of the cavity in the wall.  
“It’s… really light.” Lysimanche had taken the form of a mourning dove at this point, starting to wail out her fear as Alfred watched Matthew with wide eyes.  
“It’s probably because it’s empty! Stop messing with it!” Ottium was advising against this but as Matthew gave another tug on the coffin, sliding it further out, his interest in seeing what was inside grew.  
“Matthew, please—“  
“What’s wrong? Are you scared?” Alfred locked up almost automatically when Matthew asked this, watching the boy give another hard yank on the seemingly empty coffin. It finally slid out far enough that the thing tipped over, one end of it thunking against the ground as it lifted itself out of its hole.  
“I…” Before Alfred could make up his mind on whether to admit he was scared or not, Matthew’s fingers managed to pop the coffin open. The old brittle nails holding the semi-rotten wood together gave way easily under tugging and as the lid was thrown back the contents of the coffin were revealed. Inside were bleached bones of a stark white dressed in fine clothing, like that the higher order of the college might wear, with a pendant like that which adorned the front of the miniscule tomb clasped in skeletal hands. Alfred swooned drastically; the blue of his eyes rolled back so far the whites were almost completely flashed. He fell back against the opposite wall with a moan of fright at the sight as Matthew gasped slightly and recoiled in brief fear.  
“Matthew—put it back, put it back, and put it back!” Alfred’s voice broke, sending it trilling on a shrill note that grated on Matthew’s ears. Alas, he did no such thing as putting anything back and rather stared in awe at the skeleton remains in the coffin before them. Ottium landed on the side of the coffin, now taking the form of a large inky black raven and croaking wordlessly at the bones in the box.  
“You don’t think it’s going to come alive do you? It looks pretty not alive to me…” Alfred was shaking at this point, face red with the threat of tears and he scowled at Matthew fiercely.  
“Who cares?! Put the lid back on before it does come alive and bites somebody!” Matthew stared at Alfred for a long period of time before blinking slowly and registering the moisture starting to bead at the corners of his eyes. The older boy was legitimately afraid at the moment and was turning his fear to anger. Matthew was quick to haul the lid back on the coffin, not looking at Alfred as the other blond wiped furiously at his eyes.  
There was a period of silence as Matthew struggled to put the coffin back where it back from. Eventually, after he had decided it was better to assist than watch, Alfred helped slip the box into the cavity and was the one who slammed the hatch shut on it. Matthew winced at the force used and stared at Alfred through narrowed eyes.  
“Are you okay?’ The question was said softly and hesitantly but Alfred still jumped, lips pressed together tightly and the corners of his mouth pulled taunt. Matthew could see the other boy swallow before taking a deep breath.  
“I am perfectly fine. Let’s not mess with anymore of these things; they’re not all too interesting anyways.” Matthew didn’t say anything but nodded along, hesitantly offering his hand up to hold as the two turned to face the way they’d come. Alfred didn’t take it automatically but when he did he squeezed hard enough to pop one of Matthew’s knuckles the younger child winced at the sensation but kept silent still while they walked briskly away from the trouble they had caused. As they did so and arrived back in the open chamber they’d from whence they’d arrived, Matthew spoke up. “I’m sorry, Alfred.” Lysimanche peeked up from where she was hiding, eyeing both Ottium and Matthew wearily. Ottium cawed out his own apology even if it wasn’t needed and ruffled his feathers momentarily. Alfred was late to answer, seeming to mull over Matthew’s apology before releasing a long breath.  
“I’m sorry too. For teasing you earlier, okay? I forgive you though—just please don’t do that. It was…”  
“Scary?...” Alfred nodded slowly, brow drawn together. He used his free hand to fret at his hair before smoothing Lysimanche’s feathers. Matthew sighed with faint relief and shifted his grip on Alfred’s hand as the other boy slackened his own.  
“I think we’re both scared. Do you want to go back up?” Matthew tested this, his own morbid curiosity having been quenched and his fill of the underground adventure mostly taken. Alfred tried to lighten the mood a bit by smiling and laughing.  
“Huh? No way, don’t you still want to see if that freaky Frankenstein lab exists or something…?” Matthew smiled back, shaking his head slightly. Ottium pecked at the boy’s ear gently and chirred his own thoughts on the progression of the road ahead. There was still plenty to be seen, but would it be something they want to explore further in? What if they got lost? Of course there could always be worse. The skeleton they had disturbed could come for some kind of revenge. That thought in particular made Matthew’s skin prickle as Alfred glanced over at the doorway up to ground level.  
“Maybe we can look around a little bit longer… I mean, we couldn’t have come down here just to get scared and run off, right?” Matthew looked up at Alfred, blue-lavender gaze unsure and brow drawn together.  
“I guess? What is there down here that isn’t scary?” Alfred thought on this, looking around at the different passageways before suddenly turning to Matthew.  
“Didn’t you say yesterday that they kept the winery down here? Underground that is?” Nodding slowly, Matthew looked back to the passage ways himself and hummed in thought. “But we don’t know where it is…” Alfred bumped himself into Matthew at this, a questioning look pulled across his still slightly pink face.  
“So does that mean you want to go back?” The two boys were caught in between not wanting to let their time down here go to waste and fleeing to comfort of natural sunlight and fresh air. After staring at one another for what seemed like several minutes they both simultaneously turned and started off down another passage way. Where they were going they had no idea. This would prove to work against them for as they tried to navigate through the tunneling passages they found themselves back in the tomb sector of the underground. Both boys shied away from either wall. Back tracking, they only managed to end up in an entirely different area instead of the original cavern and by then the dull sounds of an hour chime were sounding. Looking at one another the boys accepted that they had successfully gotten themselves lost.  
Alfred was the first to let panic in, muttering to him and trying to find out how to get back. Matthew followed after him, worrying nagging at him all the same. In their midst of running around the two came upon a wooden door much like the one they had entered to get down and Alfred lept at it eagerly, hoping it would lead back above ground. Instead, it appeared they had finally found the winery. It wasn’t at all what they had wanted at this point but it was better than nothing in retrospect. Entering the room quickly the two looked around for a total of ten minutes before Alfred managed to stumble upon an open tap that was dripping a deep red liquid onto the thin soil of the ground beneath it. Matthew and Alfred both sat staring at the steadily dripping fluid for a while, silently contemplating over what exactly it was and why it looked so much like blood. When Ottium dropped down to the ground in the form of a small black terrier and started to lap at the substance, Matthew recoiled from the second hand stimulus as he pulled a sour face.  
“Blegh! Ew, gross!” Alfred looked at Matthew curiously as Ottium sat back and started to swipe his paw at his face in disgust.  
“What is it? Does it taste bad?” Matthew looked up at Alfred, displeased with the fact he didn’t even have to actually drink it to end up with the taste on his tongue and shook his head.  
“It’s just… gross. It tastes really bitter.”  
“Like… sprouts bitter or leather soap bitter?” As Alfred was occupied trying to figure out what kind of bitter Matthew was referring to Lysimanche swooped down to the tap and perched there, bending down and sticking her beak under the drip before promptly pulling away. Before Matthew could even ask how Alfred knew what leather soap tasted like, the older boy had turned away and shouted at Lysimanche in surprise.  
“What the heck? It tastes like grape infused cough medicine—Eugh!” As Alfred licked his lips and smacked his lips together, eyebrows coming together, Matthew spit on the ground and wiped his mouth the back of his hand and groaned softly.  
“Is that supposed to be the wine? That’s foul!”  
“I think Sir Bonnefoy drinks this stuff. How in the world does he stomach it? Bleh, whatever. This is just gross. Can we just get out of here now?” Matthew was quick to scoop Ottium up as Lysimanche fluttered back to Alfred’s shoulder. He would not mind getting out of this place, really. Now he really had had his fill of wandering around underground and would really like to get back to fresh air and sun, even if it meant have to go through that awful corridor again. Hooking arms with Alfred quick Matthew followed the older boy back out of the room and into the twining halls and passage ways. If they could just find the original passage, everything would be alright. They had made several attempts thus far but all had ended with them either running into freaky dead ends, random rooms that they felt were too dark to enter and definitely housing vampires, and of course just ending up in places where they didn’t recognize anything and back tracking to more familiar ground.  
“Matthew, are we going to be stuck down here forever?” Alfred’s question came out of the blue but managed to voice both boys’ fears all at once. Matthew hugged Ottium tightly to his chest, almost causing himself pain with the pressure he was putting on the little canine in his arms, and made an unsure noise.  
“I don’t know. I really hope not… There has to be some way we can get back out.” Ottium spoke up at this point after whining at Matthew for squeezing him.  
“Maybe I can sniff our way out?” Lysimanche chirped in interest at this as Alfred looked Matthew over. The younger boy set his daemon down to the ground and the little terrier turned in a couple of circles before raising his head and taking several deep sniffs. Tail raising and ears swiveled forward the canine daemon went stiff before barking wordlessly and taking off down a corridor with Matthew running after him. Alfred followed close behind at a stead jog as Lysimanche took wing and flew over them. It appeared that Ottium’s plan of sniffing their way to freed had gotten a hook. Now to see if it actually worked.  
It seemed they went through a maze as Ottium would go down seemingly random halls, sometimes even turning around and going back a different way, but Alfred could only follow seeing as Lysimanche elected to stay in her current form over joining Ottium in the job of trying to find the way out. Matthew seemed fairly sure of Ottium’s ability and kept up a sure pace even when Alfred would slow down with doubt and hesitance. When they at least came upon a familiar looking chamber with a creaky old wooden door along the stone wall, Matthew almost cried with joy. Ottium gave a multitude of shrill barks and he bounced around in sheer glee and then proudly leaped back to Matthew’s arm while Alfred made with haste to go open the door. It was indeed the looming narrow corridor they had originally gone down in the first place and this time around neither of them had any qualms with entering it.  
Although walking back up the steeps steps proved difficult in the dark the boys managed it well enough now knowing that following the traces of blue light in the wall helped immensely. They paused behind the opposite door for several moments as Alfred listened for noise from the other side before the two finally escaped from the dark and back into the fresh air and sunlight. Right into an elderly scholar who had been passing by silently, nose shoved in a book. When the children came from nowhere, the man was scared out of his wits. His daemon, a stately looking magpie with scraggly aging feathers, was quick to start screeching in alarm, her voice shrill as she shouted some kind of profanity towards Ottium and Lysimanche who recoiled away.  
“You little imps, oh, you gremlins! Augh! I will be alerting Young Scholar Bonnefoy of your mischief this very moment—Come with me, now.” Alfred barely had time to get out a startled ‘Sir Jefferson’ before the grey haired man grabbed both him and Matthew by the tips of their ears and started to tug them along. Jefferson’s daemon, answering to the name Agatha, swept over Ottium after knocking Lysimanche from Alfred’s shoulder and began to harass the two of them with pecks and sharp cries of scolding as they tried to hide from her.  
“I cannot begin to fully fathom this—The Young Master, pulling such scandalous stunts! What would His Lordship say? I’ll have Bonnefoy expelled one of these years. Bringing children into Jordan—an ineffable mistake!” Alfred could visibly see tears of pain welling in Matthew’s eyes as the younger blond grit his teeth and scowled at the ramblings of the scholar currently pulling them along. Lysimanche finally managed to escape the abuse of Agatha and drove the daemon off Ottium’s ears as the dog whined and cried over the pain of the pecking. Jefferson and his daemon were surely having no mercy on the two boys and their daemons even as he began to drag them up the stairs, grip not slackening.  
It was a quick but agonizing trip to the lecture hall where Francis was apparently in a meeting with another group of scholars and upperclassmen who were wrapping up preparations for Arthur Kirkland’s arrival. The seconds Jefferson entered the room dragging the now crying Matthew and the stoic faced Alfred, Francis lost all color in his own face as the others in the room slowly looked at him. Britainny’s ears flicked back as the other daemons of the room moved to stare at her as well and bared her teeth in a silent growl as the red-faced elder scholar stopped in front of the group and practically tossed Alfred and Matthew before Francis. Matthew stumbled particularly and would have fallen over if Alfred hadn’t reached out and steadied the silently crying child. Lysimanche remained in her current form of a large golden eagle out of sheer pride, staring down the older daemons viciously with her unwavering yellow glare. Ottium on the other hand timidly turned into a dark brown snake of some sort and coiled around Matthew’s leg tightly. Francis cleared his throat after a couple of moments and quietly walked closer to Alfred and Matthew, gently placing a hand on the younger one’s head and hushing him quietly. As Alfred took Matthew’s hand in his, squeezing firmly, the boy’s tears started to subside and he rubbed at his throbbing ear. While there was silence in the room and Britainny paced around the three involved, glaring daggers Agatha’s way, Jefferson began to speak.  
“I found these two crawling their grimy way out of the crypts while I was walking! They damn near killed me they did, scraping their dirtied little selves from the corridor down.” Francis was quick to lash back at the other scholar, foolishly so some might say. Matthew almost recoiled from the man’s touch as his caretaker’s face went rigid with rage, lips drawing back in a snarl and blue eyes going cold and frigid like a winter sky.  
“They are hardly dirtied, Monsieur Jefferson, and if I recall your own shadow once scared you half to death! Matthew, Alfred. Is it true? Did you go where you were not supposed to be?” Matthew could hardly look Francis in the eye with the expression he was giving them and Alfred was starting to quake slightly in the knees, even when the anger Francis was expressing was not directed at him in specific.  
“…It is. We wanted to see what was under the school. We didn’t know that it was off limits.” A collective murmur arose as Francis felt his throat tighten. Britainny let out an aggravated growl that seemed to silence the soft chattering that was rising as Francis stood up straight and went around the boys to face the other scholar. Jefferson was a short and plump man and seemed shorter and plumper yet compared to the lanky build of the taller Francis. With the younger man staring down at him, Jefferson seemed to get hot under the collar and tried to stand taller. This did nothing to help his case as Francis leaned down over him and practically growled into his rapidly reddening face.  
“They are children, Thomas. What do you expect of them? They will make mistakes and they will learn from them. There is no need for harsh punishment or expulsions and there never will be a need for such. Dragging them here was a waste of not only your time but the time of our superiors. Do tell me, and them, what it is you have to say for yourself.” It was at this point where Britainny roared dreadfully to punctuate this brief and intense talk. The noise caused most in the room to jump, daemons fluffing up or going for cover as Britainny turned to eye each member of the room sharply.  
“I-I… This is… This is p-preposterous! I will have you know I am—“ While Thomas tried to get out what he was attempt to say, another voice cut in. A fairly moderate man with inky black hair and deeply darkened skin cut in, the dove resting on his shoulder cooing quietly to him as she nestled against his neck.  
“I think that is quite enough, Jefferson. You interrupted us to scold the curiosity of two growing boys in a place built on the prospect of learning. Your hypocrisy itself should bring you shame. Leave now, and antagonize Bonnefoy no longer.” Francis seemed to settle at the man’s words, drawing away from the trembling and sweating scholar as Britainny returned to his side and let her hackles lie flat. Agatha had ruffled her feathers up considerably, obviously not pleased and thoroughly upset at the outcome of this if not more so than Thomas was. The elder man was quick to make his way out of the hall, obviously not even daring to attempt to keep arguing his side after the other man had spoken. Francis was quick to try and thank the man, obviously feeling his own embarrassment stinging now that he had calmed down.  
“There is no need to thank me, Francis. We are hardly done. While the two boys do not deserve a punishment, I believe we will have to discuss this on a later date. Not in front of them. As for you, speaking of which, you are dismissed.”  
“Sir Nyambuya, I… Affirmative. Matthew, Alfred. We will speak later. Please, for my own sake… Stay out of trouble.” The sudden spike of desperation in Francis’ tone was picked up by Matthew almost automatically and was in the midst of being slowly processed by Alfred as the two boys quickly turned and started on their way out of the room. Silence from the council that had been meeting trailed them out as their daemons sheepishly stayed close by their sides. Once out of the room the doors were pulled shut behind them and the two boys stood there in utter silence, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Eventually the two boys started to walk away, hands still clasped tightly together but heads bowed in thought. Occasionally an extra stray tear would roll down Matthew’s face and he would quickly use his free hand to wipe it away.  
“Hey… Are you okay?” Alfred finally spoke once they were several yards from their room and Matthew jolted slightly, not having expected him to speak. Looking up at the other boy and taking a deep breath, the littler blond slowly nodded and tried to find his voice.  
“I… I didn’t think we would get Mister Francis is trouble...” Alfred started to grind his teeth in thought, a nasty habit he had picked up from Lovino, and looked away. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. They can’t get rid of him. He’s my uncle’s friend. If they did… Well, I’m pretty sure he’d give them Hell.” Matthew looked down to his feet and thought over this, still plenty worried. That man, the one with the dove daemon—Francis had called him Sir Nyambuya. Matthew had never seen the man before, but judging from how they had all quaked at the sound of his deep and booming voice… It was no secret that he was obviously in charge. Could he really be one of the Masters of the college?  
“Would he really…” Alfred didn’t hear Matthew’s murmurs and the two arrived at their room once more in silence. Ottium still refused to uncurl from Matthew’s leg even as the boy went straight to bed and flopped face down into the covers; Alfred went to the window and sat in the seat there, knees hugged to his chest as he stared out at the ground far below. He could still see the pig troughs where, it seemed like eons ago, he had surprised Matthew by accidentally making the boy drop the slop bucket he was toting.  
It seemed that as the hours slowly ticked by the boys moved minimally, daemons sluggish and tongues slack in their mouths. At some point they both merely sat at the table near the window, absently doing work or practicing skills. The excitement of the morning and adrenaline of the adventure were long since gone and in this dull moving time the children found themselves not even lost in thought but rather in their own quietness. It was nearing sundown by the time that Alfred and Matthew actually started to speak again, asking little things and starting small sparing talks of non-sense. It was at the eighth chime of the hour past noon when Francis arrived in their room. Britainny moved slowly behind him as the man seemed to practically drag himself in. He took a heavy seat at the foot of the bed closest to the door and rested his head in his hands.  
Matthew was the one that went to Francis, obviously concerned with the man’s mood. The child clambered up onto the bed with a worried frown on his face, resting a hesitant hand on his caretaker’s shoulder. Francis made no move yet, merely heaving a sigh. Ottium, who had finally shifted into the form of a dark brown opossum some hours ago, pawed at Britainny’s face even as she batted him gently in an attempt to get him away.  
“Mister Francis, I’m sorry.” It was then that Francis finally lifted his head when Matthew tried to wrap the man up in a hug, head resting on his back. Alfred was watching several paces away, obviously not comfortable with displaying such affections with his tutor as Matthew was.  
“Mathieu… Oh, Mathieu. It’s… It’s not your fault. Either of you. I do not blame you for wanting to venture, really. Just… It is things that you will not understand.”  
“But we did do something wrong, didn’t we?” It was Alfred that asked this question, hints of defensiveness already creeping into his voice as he eyed the two Bonnefoy clan-mates wearily.  
“Admittedly, if you had only asked me, I could have told you; it is too late now. Nyambuya has said what he felt was needed to be said and has told me… If you two pull another stunt like this that he will… Oh, God be kind!” The sudden anguish frightened Matthew twice as much as it did Alfred. What could possibly be so bad as to make Francis cry aloud like this?  
“Mister Francis?...”  
“He will have the two of you removed from the campus. Entirely. He says he will be speaking to your uncle tomorrow, Alfred, on the possibility of this in the future.” Automatically Alfred’s body went rigid and Matthew actually went limp at this information. He may have been young, but the implications of no longer being in Jordan College were clear. He would have no family to go to. Francis was the only Bonnefoy other than perhaps his own mysterious mother that was living. While Alfred turned away in anger, Matthew moved off the bed and stood there in shock. Francis gave the boy a look of grief before looking the other way.  
“Please, children. For your own good, now. I do not ask you for myself any longer. Keep out of the eyes of the other scholars. “ Alfred muttered something under his breath, having retreated back to the window, palms pressed against the glass. Matthew merely nodded dumbly, not sure how to respond to what he was being told while Francis stood slowly.  
“We are all ships on a wide open sea, boys. We may only control how we hoist the sails and which colors we fly. The rest is beyond our grasp…” With this said, Francis made his leave. Matthew did not bother to stop him and ask him what he meant and Alfred was entirely preoccupied in his own thoughts when the man departed; Francis left easily with little resistance. This was likely for the best given how worn down he was. The second day was coming to a close and the storm was clear on the horizon, looming dark and foreboding. Matthew hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask Francis about a gift and dinner, he was guessing, was all but cancelled. What an eventful birthday it truly had been, but in all the wrong ways. Mechanically, and with much on his mind, Matthew went to get ready for bed early.  
Alfred took a while to start after Matthew, occasionally turning from his place at the window to peer at the other boy as he disrobed, dressed back into his night clothes, and went to pour water over into the basin. Ottium stayed curled up on the bed, not wanting to move much and seeming to be stressfully swiping his paws over his face. Matthew was already in bed, toying with his own toes as he waited for himself to be tired, when Alfred started to get undressed. The whole process of it seemed to go by terribly slow and by the time Alfred was seated in his bed both boys were antsy. They needed something, anything, to think about other than the problems at hand. Eventually, Alfred turned to Matthew and initiated the conversation.  
“Matthew. Are you tired?”  
“No. Not at all, really.” Although this wasn’t the full truth, Matthew felt he truly would not be able to sleep no matter how hard he tried. Alfred nodded at this sagely and pondered for a few seconds.  
“Do you still have that story book?” Matthew looked up now, curious as to why Alfred would ask him about the old story book that Francis had given to him back in early May. They occasionally read stories from it, usually before bed or when they were procrastinating on their studies.  
“I think so…”  
“Can read one of the stories? Please?” With something to at least occupy himself with, Matthew was quick to locate the book in question. As he did so Alfred moved from his own bed to Matthew’s, Lysimanche settling in for the night in the form of a little black fleeced lamb. Settling back against the headboard of the bed, Matthew opened the book at random and looked over the story there. Something whimsical that wasn’t too dark. Something that was easy to get lost in but not too heavy. Ah!  
“The Fantastic Adventures of the Hero, Fantasia… This one sounds nice.” Alfred hummed back in response, merely leaning against Matthew as he looked at the book’s pages. He had gotten better at reading with Matthew’s help but the letters tended to jumble or float around or sometimes even just be plain hard to read. When it came to reading aloud or together Alfred let Matthew take the lead. The younger boy leaned back against the older and flipped to the first page of the story, scanning the first paragraph before setting out to reading it.  
“Once upon a time in a world different from ours in a kingdom long ago there was a village by the name of Delphia… In this village there lived many people but the most important of all these people was a young girl named Fantasia. Fantasia lived with her father and her older sister, Valliena, in a little cottage near the woods where there lived many mystical creatures in a world not far from theirs. Valliena constantly told Fantasia not to go meddling with things she had no business in, but Fantasia constantly craved exploration and didn’t pay mind to her sister.” The story was slower, almost more like an epic or long saga than a simple tale before bedtime. It would do plenty well, and as Matthew continued Alfred occasionally murmured to show he was still listening.  
“Fantasia was best friends with a boy her age named Liovei and they shared many of the same interests, mainly those consisting of becoming knights for the royals of the land and protecting people from the fierce mythical beasts that did love to terrorize their kind. They practiced fighting together in secret with blunt and broken sword taken from the blacksmith shop where their other friend, Yalland, worked with her mother.” The story went on, describing how a messenger came and announced a draft of all men in the village and the events of Liovei and Fantasia disguising Fantasia as a young man and them running off together with the help of Yalland and another friend, Oliviem. About them training together and Fantasia’s slow transformation from a fierce young girl to a stately young person, with no defined gender, and how they changed their named to Fantasi. The astonishing adventure of how Fantasi fought a shape-shifting dragon who was the evil twin of a handsome prince who promised his hand to Fantasi the second he set eyes on the knight. How Fantasi refused the proposal but rather opted to get to know the prince before even considering the offer.  
The whole thing was perfectly fantastic and although at times Matthew would nod off in the middle of speaking, Alfred himself was also falling sleep and the two agreed to finish the story come later when they got the chance. They were both rather curious about the prospect of the genderless Fantasi and the prince becoming a couple. Granted, it was a story from a different culture and the two English raised boys were both intrigued with the idea of it all. How the prince had fallen for Fantasi even with the knight presented under the guise of a man but accepted that they had been born a woman and yet still then were neither. It seemed a lot to wrap their head around but they enjoyed it. And of course how even though Liovei had been the boy of the relationship he had not pursued Fantasia as a romantic interest and the girl had not just been a damsel in distress. All very different from traditional stories they often read. When Matthew finally set the book aside due to the darkness of the room being too heavy to continue reading, Alfred was already asleep. The older boy had quite funnily dozed off practically laying on Matthew. Lysimanche had stayed a decent distance away and Ottium slept by Matthew’s head to avoid Alfred’s touch as the littler blond accepted that he couldn’t push the older boy off and instead merely curled up, his back pressed against Alfred’s chest as he tried to get comfortable. It didn’t take long for Matthew to fall asleep and when he did his slumber was eerily dreamless. Alfred, on the other hand, was currently being plagued by a dream he had experienced a couple times over now.  
In the dream he was standing on the edge of a cliff over a choppy grey sea and Lysimanche was wheeling overhead in the form of a large white and brown bird of prey. For some reason she couldn’t land despite Alfred being right there for her to land on and there was always this feeling. Like someone was standing behind him. But for some reason, Alfred couldn’t turn no matter how hard he tried and was stuck with the feeling of someone running their hands slowly over his back and reaching forward to brush their finger tips across his face. This time there was something different though. The waters of the sea were even rougher and the sky above was a swirling mess of dark clouds. Lysimanche was nowhere to be seen and deep down inside Alfred knew she had to be there but he still felt horrifyingly empty not being able to see her.  
The hands that were touching him were doing something entirely different this time and there was the distinct sound of someone singing softly as if by his ear but still somehow nowhere near him; fingers dug into the bones of his hips and scratched at his thighs painfully. The entire experience was frightening in a vague sort of way as Alfred struggled to try and move his limbs. All he could do was stare down at the sea below him and occasionally move his fingers if he really concentrated. Somewhere in the real world Alfred had thrashed around slightly, pushing Matthew away before clutching back onto the boy awkwardly. This strange dream, singing and all, continued until about four in the morning when an absolutely awful pain coursed through every fiber of Alfred’s body and he awoke with a rattling inhale and sat up straight. Lysimanche woke just as suddenly, bleating in pain and horror as she seemed to struggle against invisible hands. Alfred was quick to grab his daemon and pull her into his lap, pressing her head to his chest as Matthew stirred with a groan of discomfort and rolled over onto his stomach.  
Breathing heavy, the pain and fear from prior lingered as Alfred stared wide eyed into the dark trying to find the source of the intrusion. He had only felt that feeling one other time in his life and that was when a scholar touched Lysimanche without meaning to. This could only mean that someone or something was in the room with them at that moment and whatever it was it had touched his daemon. Clasping the still shivering lamb to his body firmly, Alfred tried to calm himself down. There was nothing there. There wasn’t even a shadow to hint at some unseen person in the room. There was just… Nothing. He wasn’t sure what was more unsettling—that there was something that had touched Lysimanche or that if there was really something there that it was currently invisible and probably watching him right then and there.  
These thoughts only made Alfred want to wake Matthew up but the younger blond was sleeping so soundly that the boy couldn’t bring himself to do it. It would just be unfair to wake up him this early in the morning. Instead, Alfred just lay back down slowly and shimmied to keep his back pressed against Matthew. Whatever it had been, it should be gone. So Alfred could hope. Laying there in the dark, Alfred started to actually process things—one being that it was now officially his birthday. After seeing how Matthew’s went down the drain he didn’t have high hopes; the fact that Arthur would be arriving that day did nothing to help Alfred’s expectations. Another was that Matthew had started to squirm around and after about the fifth toss the younger boy managed to knee Alfred directly in the rear which caused a whole load of discomfort that the older blond wasn’t sure he was able to phrase; instead Alfred just scooted away.  
When the sun finally started to peek up over the horizon line, Alfred was partially back to sleep. It was short lived as Mikyla Jovanneson came into the room only several minutes later clad in her working clothes already with Maximus at her heels. She seemed entirely jittery, big brown eyes wide and constantly looking around and her hands never stopped moving. She was quick to wake the two boys up, scolding them briefly about cramming into one bed and how that would stunt their growth if they kept it up. She noted mildly about Alfred looking tired before patting Matthew’s face as the boy started to slip back to sleep again standing up. The woman was quick to start rushing them about, dragging them both off to go take a shower. Alfred was left on his own in a separate stall as Mikyla accompanied Matthew to help him take his shower. Not that Alfred really needed help taking his shower. He just thought the whole thing strange. It was still an awful time to be getting ready for anything and neither of them was fully awake until getting splashed with cold water.  
Matthew, who was much more accustomed to warm baths, gave an audible squeal of shock at the cold water running from the pipes and actually tried to run away from it before Mikyla caught him and chided him about behaving. There was a little joke thrown in that Alfred’s rebelliousness was starting to rub off on him that Alfred himself sneered at as he ran his fingers through his hair. Lysimanche took the form of a duck, splashing about in the water lazily as she ruffled her feathers on occasion and in general was just trying to wake herself up. The showers were short and bitter-sweet but at least the two children were more awake by the end of them. Matthew murmured something about preferring warm water over cold and Mikyla merely laughed and told him that once he was older he would learn to enjoy showers. Alfred shrugged at this, unsure of what to tell Matthew when the younger boy looked his way with questioning. Breakfast was the next step, although Mikyla seemed a bit confused on what to do regarding this as she rushed to the nearest clock and cursed under her breath before going back to the boys and telling them that breakfast would have to be postponed for the both of them. This didn’t help either of them seeing as by then they were rather hungry and mild grunts of protest were put forward before Mikyla silenced them both and lead them away.  
“Understand, children. This is a very, very, big day. Lord Kirkland will be arriving any hour now, and he has requested that first thing first he sees Alfred. Aren’t you excited, boy?” Alfred looked Mikyla up and over, blue eyes narrowing as his lips tightened together. Matthew caught hint of this and looked over to Ottium, who was currently trotting along in the form of a goat at his side. Lysimanche, now taken to another avian form per the norm, merely scoffed and puffed up in silence.  
“I guess, yeah, sure.” Although Mikyla could tell by Alfred’s pause and tone that he was lying quite plainly to her face she did not question him and rather continued on. “Matthew, I have word from Sir Francis that you’ll be going with Mister Riley and Mister Tucker to help with the staff meeting Lord Kirkland at the front gate. Remember, child! First impressions are important. I want you to stand tall, chin up, bow deeply, and remember to speak clearly if spoken to. You’ve always had this awful habit of mumbling…” Mikyla trailed off, her thoughts over taking her as she struggled to piece things together. This was big. This was huge actually. Oh, bother bother bother. She surely hoped nothing went wrong today. That would be a catastrophe! Alfred in the meantime gave a sick look to Matthew as the boy glanced over at him. They both knew that Arthur was a very important man but he was far from the royalty he sounded to be with how this was being treated. Alfred felt legitimately sick to his stomach but whether it was from what he was hearing or the lack of food he had eaten was unsure.  
“Now, if I’ve heard him correctly Lord Kirkland will be staying for almost a week! Bother me, if we’d known ahead of time… Honestly, these busy-body scholars—always got their books so far in their face they can’t even speak. Communication is essential to everything.” Alfred seemed exasperated by Mikyla’s ramblings but Matthew, who has worked and lived with the woman for most his life, simply half-listened to her as if this was just another thing and nodded along politely when she looked back at him in particular. It was just to show that he was listening.  
“Now, Young Master Alfred, I’m understanding this is a fairly important day for you? You’re turning twelve, boy—you’re one step closer to becoming a man, aren’t you? Congratulations! Ah, Matthew, I apologize for missing your birthday yesterday. Mister Riley helped me prepare you a gift but we were being worked to the bone over there. I promise you’ll get it sooner than later.” Matthew perked up at the mention of a present. It wasn’t often he got one, and he had been keeping his fingers crossed for one on his birthday. Knowing that Mikyla had in fact thought about him yesterday and had spent the time to make him a present… It was heartwarming and he couldn’t help but smile up at the woman. Mister Riley had even pitched in. When he saw the man later that day he would have to thank him. Alfred on the other hand, being talked to like this, was not so happy and opted to instead look the other direction instead of actually acknowledging Mikyla on the matter. That was right though, wasn’t it. He would start to be treated more like an adult now.  
It wasn’t like Alfred didn’t like the idea of being treated like an adult. That meant more freedoms for him to enjoy and less rules on his shoulders; it also meant people would start to expect more from him. They’d start pressuring him to join the scholars for studies and to start adventuring and going to diplomatic congresses and the whole likes. The worst part, Alfred thought, was that they would expect him to settle. Casting a look to Lysimanche, Alfred grimaced at the thought of her settling. He liked Lysimanche being able to change forms. It felt nice knowing that she could do whatever she wanted. Settling always seemed to involve the daemons getting boring and one sided. Alfred couldn’t imagine his daemon ever being boring or one sided. It just wasn’t her. But, it was a big part of their culture. The settling of a daemon marked the official passage of a child to an adult and just Alfred’s luck was that it usually happened around the age he was currently. Knowing that Arthur’s and his father’s had settled even earlier than the usual didn’t help. When Matthew was met by two men Alfred finally realized that he would likely be facing his uncle alone. The thought wasn’t pleasant all of a sudden even though Alfred had done it plenty of times before. Matthew on the other hand, was too jittery about the event and the present and everything. Everything was very exciting all of a sudden. Ottium, who was stuck between Riley’s daemon and Tucker’s, took the form of a small white donkey and trotted by the two older daemons proudly. This was a big deal, being able to be the first few there to help with the greeting of someone important. With Riley on his left and Tucker on his right Matthew felt small but somehow very important; this was something that the boy didn’t feel often. Of course there was more to discuss on the topic of the two men.  
Riley Stein, although mentioned before, was never dwelled on too long. He was a rather average looking man who still had yet to grow out of the last of his baby fat which made him look more youthful than he truly was. He had rather dark red hair that made his already pale white skin look whiter in comparison and he had dark brown eyes that currently seemed to twinkle with his excitement. His daemon, Eileen, was surely more obvious about the man’s nerves than he was and was positively wiggling with how hard she was wagging her sweeping golden tail. Standing almost a foot taller than Alfred, Riley was a fairly well-built man and Matthew often saw him help the shorter maids reach high shelves and open tightly closed lids. Meanwhile, there was Tucker Reiss.  
Tucker Reiss was a burly and thick man with jet black hair, a convex nose, and prominent eyebrows. He had light brown eyes and skin that was deeply tanned, and when he smiled his eyes would crinkle to slits. The man was built of muscle and padded with fat which made him a mass of bulk compared to those who worked in the care department and the scholars of the college. It was mainly because he did more heavy labor out farther in the agriculture and processing parts of the campus. His daemon, Admiranda, was a Clydesdale horse with her tail braided and heavy iron horseshoes put to her hooves. The large daemon had a bit of trouble navigating in the halls of the college where most daemons that entered were much smaller than herself but she managed, occasionally apologizing absently to things that she bumped into and trying to avoid touching anybody. Matthew was surely a sight to see next to the two men with Ottium trotting dutifully next to the lumbering Admiranda while Eileen darted about their hooves with a playful air to her. Tucker and Riley made friendly conversation, both of them giving Matthew belated birthday wishes and chatting about what they would be doing. Apparently Tucker would be hooking Admiranda to the coach arriving and take the place of the driver so he could bring the buggy back around the college to the docking stations. Riley was going to help take Arthur’s luggage and Matthew was there to help with the luggage if needed while also being as absolutely charming as he possibly could. Tucker made a soft comment about it likely not being too hard since Matthew was related to Francis. Riley snickered at this and lightly teased the brawny man about his ‘wee little infatuation’ with Francis to which Tucker merely rolled his eyes and smiled back.  
“Honestly, Riley. You’da thought you was jealous with talk like that.”  
“Why, ain’t that? Who’s to say I’m not, Tuck?” Matthew couldn’t help but giggle at the friendly banter back and forth between the two men as Admiranda avoided stepping on Eileen who now insisted on walking under the big mare.  
“Oh, you sure are as charming, ain’t you? I promise ya that if it weren’t for Mister Bonnefoy you’d surely be the charmingest of the men.” Riley flashed a grin at this and laughed aloud, running a hand back through his hair and shaking his head. Tucker merely smiled and looked down at his feet momentarily before the two switched conversation topics, occasionally asking Matthew questions again. What did he think the ‘Great and Mighty Lord Kirkland’ was like? Tucker admitted to hearing that the man was rather short in real life while Riley heard that the man once got in a fight with his own Death and won. Matthew didn’t understand what Riley meant by ‘getting in a fight with his own Death’ and dismissed it for the time being. He could always ask about it later. Tucker expressed disbelief at this but, with both men being a bit gullible, he nodded eventually. When the three college dwellers finally made it outside and down the drive to their destination, the coach was just pulling up. Their moment of truth had come. Surrounded by several other attendants and a couple of scholars, the buggy came to a halt and the driver hopped from her seat and came around to open the door. Once it was opened, Matthew got a good look at the man he had heard so much about. Tucker was right. He was shorter than expected.  
Arthur Kirkland, although shorter, was none the less an impressive man to look at. He was dressed smartly but not pompously, and was currently removing a hat from atop his head. He exuded an aura of control that was almost overwhelming. The man had dusty blond hair that seemed to be darker near the roots and thick light brown eyebrows that gave him a look of brooding and contemplation. Built sturdily, he had broader shoulders and a wider chest that narrowed slightly when it came down to his hips. What caught Matthew’s attention the most was the man’s eyes. They were intense, sharp, and spookily intelligent looking; the color of them was stunning—a dark emerald green that Matthew had never really seen before except in painted pictures. Briefly he wondered if Alfred had gotten his eye color from someone else in the family or if Arthur was just a special case. Tucker gave a short bow as he passed by both Arthur and the man’s escort who helped him unhitch the horse at the collar before he tied Admiranda in. Riley was quick to go retrieve luggage with a couple other servants and Matthew was left to stand there in awe, not even paying attention to the other man exiting the buggy behind Arthur.  
Mikyla seemed to come from nowhere, standing by Matthew suddenly and nudging the boy to bow as Arthur drew nearer to them. Matthew simply couldn’t take his eyes off the man and kept his gaze trained on Arthur’s face as the man looked over each of the servant individually. As Mikyla curtsied politely to the politician he nodded to her and then his gaze slowly fell on Matthew, who was no longer bowing. Automatically something changed in the man’s expression that the young boy couldn’t quite put a name to and those green eyes narrowed at him. It was then that Matthew noticed the man’s daemon. She was impressive for a canine daemon that wasn’t a wolf. She was all lean muscles and her short pelt was an absolutely absurd color of coppery red with a slightly raised ridge of fur along her spine. She had the same startling green eyes as Arthur did and was staring Ottium down. Matthew opened his mouth to give a shy hello to the staring man but the second his lips parted Arthur turned away suddenly and clicked his tongue twice and started off briskly.  
Matthew seemed mystified by this and as Mikyla took a hold of him by the shoulder she lead him off after Arthur, her brow furrowed up slightly as if she were suddenly troubled about something. Ottium, rather taken by the man’s daemon as Matthew was taken with the man, had tried to copy her form the best he could with minimal results. His coat wasn’t nearly as bright as hers and was instead more of a golden color; his eyes came out brown instead of green. While Mikyla and two other handmaids, Pili and Quincy, walked behind Arthur, the scholars that had been present flanked him as they all walked back up the drive and into the college. There was a pause as they entered the college where Arthur seemed to merely look around. When he was done doing so the scholars gave him fair wishes and departed for the time beings, commenting on how the maids would be of use to him for his entire stay. Arthur acknowledged them politely and turned to give the maids a once over only to catch sight of Matthew and Ottium again.  
This time Arthur made a face that Matthew recognized immediately and he felt his heart drop at it. That was the exact same face that Alfred made when he felt something was unsatisfactory. The fact that Arthur Kirkland was making that expression at him in particular was a bit devastating. Did he maybe not brush his hair properly? Was there something on his face? Swallowing dryly, Matthew shyly lowered his gaze away from the man’s and ended up not hearing what was said to the maids. It was then that a loud shout of ‘Arthur!’ was heard from down the hall way and the man himself spun around so quickly it almost seemed like he’d swung in a full circle. When Matthew looked back up he could quite clearly see that it was Francis who had called out and watched as the older man came rushing over, shedding his robes as he went and almost dropping them in his haste. It was when the two grown men seemed to practically collide that the three handmaids jumped back and Matthew flinched away slightly. When the metaphorical dust settled they quickly realized that the two were actually hugging.  
Matthew was dully shocked. Even with all the reminders he had that Francis and Arthur were familiar with one another he had never imagined them actually displaying it. Although Arthur did seem a bit stiff in his hug, it was quite clear the two were hugging on another and rather tightly at that. Britainny, who had practically been running ahead of Francis, had actually pounced Arthur’s daemon and made quite a mess of the once regal and untouchable look the daemon had before. When they separated, the two pulled one another to the side and spoke in hushed tones. It was then that Arthur appeared to place a hand on Francis’ cheek and slowly turned the man’s face before pointing to Matthew in specific. Mikyla went stiff besides the boy and nudged him forward automatically as Francis’ eyes went wide and he looked from Matthew to Arthur.  
"Mathieu, come here please?” The boy was came forward and automatically went to stand behind Francis, Ottium changing into the form of a rabbit and being picked up. Francis was quick to drag Matthew out from behind him, keeping a firm hand on the boy. Again Arthur seemed to just stare at the boy as if trying to piece something together about him before his face slowly drew into that look again. This time Francis caught it as well and his eyes narrowed slightly as he said something to Arthur that Matthew didn’t catch and the other man scowled and walked past the two Bonnefoy’s. Matthew looked up at Francis in confusion but the man was too busy watching after Arthur to notice. When they followed after him the maids hesitantly did as well. Pili and Quincy were obviously very confused about what was going on while Mikyla seemed to have a better idea. It was while they were walking that the talking began between Arthur and Francis. It was slow, not all too meaningful from what Matthew could tell, and to be entirely honest the boy was still caught up on the weird looks Arthur had been giving him.  
“It has been a fairly mild year so far.” It was Arthur who was speaking now, voice not as deep as Matthew had thought it was going to be but not particularly high pitched. Just somewhere in a strange middle range; his words held a thick accent that Matthew hadn’t really heard before. Britainny and Arthur’s daemon were also discussing something that Matthew couldn’t quite understand and Ottium was staying out of it to avoid eavesdropping on the conversation.  
“It has. The spring was drizzled as always, but this summer has been pleasant. Has the weather been so decent where you have been lodging?”  
“You know I cannot tell you that, Francis.” Francis rolled his eyes slightly, one brow arching up as he cracked a rather senile smile and laughed sarcastically.  
“Ah, confidential? Or perhaps you were just hiding from the public eye this whole time. Do tell me when you’re going to update your autobiography. It is ten years outdated.”  
“Do not kid me. Perhaps later we may discuss it, but not in company.” There was a visible shift in interest at the prospect of talking alone and Matthew could see it from the way Francis’ posture changed and even his pupils seemed to dilate. The child wasn’t sure what this all entailed but he was sure that after so long Francis would want to talk to his friend in private.  
“Of course… Later, tonight, I presume?” Arthur looked at Francis sidelong and it wasn’t clear if he smiled or not but there was an obvious nod as the two arranged their meeting later on in the day. There was a small moment of silence before Francis started to speak again.  
“Alfred has been doing exceptionally well in his studies as of late. Since you last saw him he has gone from being only slightly adept at mathematics and below average on reading to being advanced with his maths and finally catching up on his literature studies.”  
“Is that so… Has he started with his alchemy and social studies?”  
“Oh, Arthur. You always did prefer that old term. Yes, he has started with chemistry. As for his social studies…”  
“Has he or has he not.” The whole exchange was rather bizarre to watch. Matthew was having trouble telling if they were talking friendly about Alfred or talking about him in a business fashion as if he were merely being trained by Francis for Arthur. It was a strange mix and Matthew couldn’t understand it. Sure he had seen them hug, but the way they communicated was strange. Tucker and Riley were friends. Alfred and he were friends. Hell, even the Vargas brothers and Alfred and him were all friends. This was just strange and he wondered if this was some kind of ‘professional’ friendship because they were important adults.  
“No, no he has not. I wanted to work with him on reading a bit more before we started that.” This only made Arthur’s face twist again but he said nothing about it. There was another bit of silence between the two before the talking once more resumed.  
“Has the boy settled yet?” This seemed to startle Francis beyond belief, that Arthur would ask this. Matthew wasn’t entirely sure why but merely listened.  
“No!—No, I mean, he has not. Arthur you have been asking since the child turned nine if he had settled yet. These things happen with time—“  
“So you would say, Francis. He’s taking too bloody long with the whole process.”  
“He is only just turning twelve, Arthur.” The maids rose up in murmurs, obviously listening to the conversation, but were quickly silenced when Francis looked back at them sharply.  
“I do not see the point of your argument. His father settled early than he did.” Francis visibly grit his teeth, blue eyes narrowing as he drew in a breath.  
“Yes, but Alfred’s father was also a stubborn man who wanted to grow up too fast for his own good.” Matthew expected Arthur to get mad at Francis’ jab at his dead brother but instead he merely shot him a look as if he himself was insulted about this and proceeded to roll his eyes.  
“Sooner or later he will have to. He’s getting closer to becoming a man now and it will not be long.”  
“Perhaps physically, but I assure you that Alfred is taking his sweet time in maturing.” That was right, Matthew thought. Alfred had started puberty, as Francis had eventually told him as to why the boy was starting to act and look different. Something about him growing up.  
“You with this whole business!” The sudden burst of emotion surprised Matthew but Francis almost seemed pleased that he’d pulled this reaction from the other man, a smug smile twitching on his lips. “You hardly wanted to grow up in the first place, you did. I do not want you telling me about this. I will speak to the boy myself on the matter, understood?”  
“A little angry, are you? You will only find that I am right, Arthur.” Arthur actually looked at Francis now, scowling fiercely at him. Francis merely tilted his head slightly and tipped his chin down, looking up at the other man through his eyelashes slyly as his smile widened. Arthur stared at the scholar for several long moments, forcing a grimace to avoid what Matthew could guess would have been a smile.  
“Just take me to the child. I have had a long trip and you are running your own time with me down as it is.”  
“Oui, of course, Lord Kirkland.” The use of the title from anyone else seemed to be fine with the politician but the second is slipped, sarcastically, off of Francis’ tongue the man practically went beet red in the face. There was a mumble of ‘never say that again’ from him before the group rushed the last few minutes to get to the smallest meeting hall in that sector of the college where, Matthew pieced, Alfred was. Francis opened the door for Arthur and waved the maids off who nodded in understanding and stood back. Matthew went go stand with them before Francis snagged him by the back of his shirt and pulled him into the room as well.  
Alfred was sitting at the table alone with a pretty young maid, whom had skin dark like the night with short tightly curled black hair and big brown eyes, standing nearby with a cart of food. Apparently Alfred had been talking to her before the others entered, likely from sheer boredom and a bit from the fact he just liked to talk to people. She quickly went silent when she saw Francis and Arthur and stepped away from Alfred, bowing her head and curtsying deeply with ease. Arthur was quick to take a seat across from Alfred while Francis sat by the boy and directed Matthew to help the maid, who was apparently named Alala, with setting the food and drink. The young woman smiled kindly at Matthew when he approached her and her daemon, a large serval with a reverse colored coat. His named was Chigaru and he was quick to be friendly with Britainny and Arthur’s daemon that Matthew finally learned was named Voxilamort.  
While the large wild cat treated the two daemons to casual fur cleaning and light conversation, Alala and Matthew started to set out the table. It seemed that only Arthur and Alfred would be eating while Francis, Alala, and Matthew sat by and watched. It would prove awkward seeing as even with a breakfast of crepes, that of which contained strawberries and banana slices with cream, and a whole lot of other good food that made Matthew’s stomach audibly growl the two did not actually speak to one another. Alfred actually even picked at his food, not seeming to be hungry at all. Once Arthur was done with his own plate of breakfast he made a note on how Alfred needed to eat his food and not toy with it. The boy looked up at his uncle with a twinge of disdain over the comment and eventually ate the meal, now cold, begrudgingly.  
Once Alfred finally finished, which took quite a while, Alala and Matthew cleared the plates away and the dark skinned woman was sent away with the cart of empty dishes. She seemed almost upset to do so and cast a lingering glance back towards Arthur and Alfred before finally exiting. Chigaru took his sweet time departing from Voxilamort and Britainny before rushing to catch up with Alala in the hallway. It was then that the real conversation started between Alfred and his uncle and things only got weirder as time went on.  
“Alfred, you have grown quite a bit since I have last seen you. Francis tells me your studies have been well.”  
“They’ve been okay.” The answer was vague and Alfred shrugged as if he was indecisive on the actual quality of his studies. Arthur’s expression didn’t change at this but he did lay a hand on the table and leaned back in his chair as Voxilamort laid her head on his knee.  
“Do you know, Alfred, who the last royal family of France was?” Matthew watched Francis visibly tense at this question, shooting Arthur a look of shock although the man’s jaw tightened instead of falling limp. The politician did not acknowledge Francis at this time and instead kept his gaze intensely trained on Alfred.  
“I… It’s, uhm…” Matthew could see Alfred grasping for anything he might have heard pertaining to France but it was obvious he didn’t know. Even Matthew didn’t know the answer to that question and from Francis had said their bloodline hailed from France. Arthur didn’t give Alfred the answer to the question but rather slowly drummed his fingers on the table top and inclined his head with a look of disappointment.  
“Shame… Can you tell me then, what the states of the Baltic Sea are?” Alfred didn’t even attempt to answer this and instead merely bowed his head, face reddening rapidly in frustration. This time around, Matthew knew the answer. Clearing his throat the younger boy slowly raised his hand and watched as Francis made a face at him, one that meant he needed to put his hand down; it was too late for that. Arthur had already turned those eerie green eyes onto him and was sizing the boy up.  
“What is it, servant boy?”  
“The… The tribes, your Lordship. They’re Latvia, Lithuania, Old Prussia, Belarus, and Estonia; none of the states are official because of the clans in that area.” This completely caught Arthur off guard as his eyes widened slightly and a new spike of interest seemed to light up in him. It was momentary but seeing it made Matthew’s chest flutter a bit with a pride even though he could feel Francis and Alfred staring at him.  
“Francis… Who is this, exactly?” Francis almost passed out at the question. Matthew, oh dear Matthew. If only you hadn’t opened your damn mouth, Matthew. Swallowing thickly, Francis wondered that if he played dumb he could spare himself a bit of grief. Alas, with Arthur’s gaze burning into his skin the man could do no such thing and instead told something a bit like the truth.  
“This is Matthew,” Francis started. “He is a kitchen helper that Alfred befriended.” Although it was not a lie, Arthur could clearly tell that it was not the whole truth either. The man could’ve chosen to press on the matter but he was running on limited time with Alfred seeing as he did have other things to do. Other things, such as: composing letters, shifting through his documents, and perhaps actually sleeping for once in the past few days. Clearing his throat, the sturdily built blond merely accepted what he was told and turned back to Alfred.  
“It is rather embarrassing, Alfred, that a kitchen-boy should know more than you. I expect better. As I have been told, your best subject is mathematics. This is good to hear, although I could hope you are making more headway in your literature. The news of it has been dismal.” Matthew almost feared the mere aura pulsing off of Alfred at the moment. The look on the boy’s face was positively hateful at that time and yet somehow Arthur seemed to not notice. Or maybe he just was pretending to not notice. Matthew couldn’t tell. As Alfred ground his teeth together in something quite akin to rage, Francis butted in.  
“It wouldn’t be fair to compare the two. They have different strengths and interests, Arthur.”  
“Do not make excuses for him, Francis. You will only teach him bad habits for later in life. Now, I would like to know what the product of two hundred and twelve is when multiplied by thirteen.” The answer to Arthur’s question came near automatically and in a tone so bitter and sharp it might’ve cut someone if words had the capability to.  
“Two thousand, seven hundred, and fifty six.”  
“Well done… Now divide that by four.” Again the answer came almost immediately after Arthur finished speaking.  
“Six hundred and eighty nine.” This seemed to be satisfactory enough for Arthur as he raised a hand before setting it back down. Alfred shifted in his seat, tongue running across his teeth as he cast a glance first to Francis and then to Matthew before looking back to Arthur. The man went quiet as if thinking deeply before looking at Francis once more.  
“Take the other one out as you leave. I would like to speak to Alfred in private, if you please.” Francis didn’t seem to keen on this nor did Alfred as he went to open his mouth to say something before a sharp peck on his ear from Lysimanche stopped him dead in his tracks. Matthew actually felt a twinge of disappointment at being sent away but stood anyways as Francis quickly passed by Alfred, briefly running a comforting hand along the boy’s shoulder, and then followed the man out of the room. With the door shut behind them, Francis paused and then slowly turned his gaze to Matthew. The boy could automatically tell that something was off and took a step away, heeding that as of late Francis has been particularly stressed. Although the man said nothing the almost deadened look that had settled across his features made him look gaunt as a ghoul.  
“Mathieu… I do not want you to speak to Arthur again, do you understand? There are things that must be explained, things I cannot tell you yet. I just need you to understand this, alright? Do not do it. Make yourself sparse around him.” Francis’ words left a feeling of dread deep within the pit of Matthew’s stomach as the boy held the man’s gaze, unsure of how to respond. He had thought that he was making a good impression on the politician with answer his question. Now he was being told to not talk to him at all. It confused and actually worried Matthew slightly.  
“Mister Francis… why?” The older man actually looked away at this, seeming spooked as his nails dugs into the wood of the door slightly. There was a long stretch of silence aside from Britainny making a low aggravated noise as she tossed her head. After sitting in silence for a rather long time Francis finally answered, voice weak and thin. He was beginning to frighten Matthew.  
“Sometimes it is best not to know the answer to things, Mathieu.” The answer was too vague, too ominous, and far too short for Matthew’s likes. Now he could really taste the fear creeping up his throat. Why was Francis suddenly acting so strangely about this? Was there something wrong with Arthur that Matthew wasn’t catching onto? Admittedly, the man had been a tad bit too rough on Alfred about his studies and had likely embarrassed the boy but there wasn’t much else that Matthew could think of that was off. Instead of questioning it any further Matthew sat there in the silence that had enveloped the two Bonnefoy’s and stared at the ground. Hand running over Ottium’s pelt repeatedly the young boy found his own thoughts a mess that couldn’t make sense of. It seemed like they had been standing there forever by the time the door was opened by Arthur himself and he exited with Alfred behind him.  
Pili and Quincy were back upon them in no time, having wandered away a bit but made quickly to come back once they heard the door moving. The two maids were a bit of a bumbling sight to see, obviously rather nervous but overall just as excited as any other staff member was. It was then as they were all making fuss and finding a good formation to walk in that the hour chimed. Arthur cast a look over at Francis who just barely managed to smile back, looking ill as he did so, and then spoke.  
“I have business to attend to with others. Francis, take Alfred. Try not to look so grim. We will speak later, keep in mind. Now, you two—maids—come along.” Alfred seemed all too eager to get back to Francis at this point, met with a hand on his shoulder accompanied by a squeeze. Pili and Quincy looked between the two of them before looking over at Matthew, to Francis, and finally to Arthur. It was Quincy who answered first, nodding slowly.  
“Of course, sir.” The two maids, daemons in tow, followed after Arthur as he started away and left Francis with the two boys again. Watching the man leave, Francis released a breath he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding and loosened his grip on Alfred’s shoulder. That had been all too close. He could tell from the way that Arthur looked at Matthew that the man was already piecing things together. There was no way to hide family resemblance after all. Not when you were a Bonnefoy. Quietly leading the two boys away to go off to another area of the building, it seemed the hardest part of this day had gotten out of the way with minimal causalities and little turbulence. Francis couldn’t bear to think about what the rest of the week might have in store for them. Perhaps it would do his health best to just not think about it.  
While Matthew continued his silent process of confusion, Alfred was lost for words for an entirely different reason. What had been discussed with him in that room once Francis and Matthew left was still trying to cook and come to light in his head at that very moment. The conversation had started light enough, discussing values and loyalties. It wouldn’t be the first time that Arthur had rambled about something seemingly out of the blue for any apparent reason. It was then that the man had started to ask questions about Matthew. Alfred had been upset initially. Arthur had come all this way after this long amount of time just to sit Alfred down, make him feel bad, and then ask him questions about his best friend instead of actually talking to him? It had his blood coursing in mere seconds and Alfred refused to say anything. Instead Arthur started to speak again, talking about how he was hesitant about ‘that child’. That Alfred should try to be less leisure with who he took as companions.  
The talk had made Alfred want to scream in all honesty. As if Arthur had any say in whom he made friends with! Matthew wasn’t just some kitchen boy and if Alfred hadn’t been smarter he might have ruined Francis’ white lie by saying so. He refrained from such, luckily for them all, and merely held his tongue and tuned Arthur out. He could only have guessed that after a hour or so the man caught on that Alfred wasn’t listening to him and dismissed him. That was when they had exited the room. Now the preteen was left with a sour taste on his tongue and this strange inability to look Matthew in the eye at the moment. The tension between himself, Francis, Matthew, and Arthur was unbearable and Alfred felt an overwhelming urge to just run away from it. Go somewhere high up and maybe scream in frustration until his throat was raw and he couldn’t anymore. It just wasn’t fair.  
In the end, Alfred ended up thinking back on Lovino and his stories about how when his dad came home. At times the man came home with wicked scars and at one point, according to Lovino and Feliciano both, even with a couple fingers missing; every time he came he always smiled and hugged his sons and kissed his wife and brought twice as much merriment and joy into the house that he would have missed in his absence. It made Alfred bitter knowing that he couldn’t have a relationship like that with his uncle. It was in times like this that Alfred had to stop and wonder what his father and mother had been like.  
Alfred’s thoughts were interrupted by a foreign feeling that could only be described as someone brushing their hand over the back of his neck and shook in discomfort at the sensation. He actually halted, confusing Matthew and Francis as he turned around and looked for the source of the feeling. Again, per the norm, nothing was there. It brought Alfred directly back to the strange dream he’d had and the incident with Lysimanche. The daemon shivered in tandem with Alfred upon recalling the strange occurrence; Matthew spoke up then, taking a hold of Alfred’s hand and causing the boy to jolt.  
“Alfred?... Is something wrong?” Francis was next in line to speak as he looked Alfred over carefully.  
“You look as if you’ve seen your Death, Alfred— come along. It might just be a lack of sleep. A short nap will not hurt you... I think we might all need one.” When Alfred opened his mouth to say something in response an entirely new thing happened. It was something much like having someone shove their fingers in your mouth and Alfred swore he could feel fingernails on his tongue; he bit down roughly only to have his teeth clack together awkwardly, earning him a look of bewilderment from both Matthew and Francis alike. Licking his lips in embarrassment, Alfred refused eye contact and merely nodded with a mumble. Sleeping more did sound like a good idea. He was just stressed. The barest traces of a laugh, more like the whispers of a the first gusts of winter, exhaled somewhere near Alfred’s ear and Lysimanche morphed abruptly into a dormouse and went to hide in Alfred’s shirt.  
While the two Bonnefoy’s paused in hesitance at Alfred’s sudden and strange behavior there wasn’t much they could do. Although, this was the second time that day that Matthew had heard the mentioning of this thing called a ‘Death’ and by now he was truly curious. Now was not the time to ask question and so instead of prompting Matthew held his tongue and instead looked forward to the prospect of more sleep. He felt like he’d just had enough excitement to last him the next couple of months but he doubted this was the end of it all. The walk back to the room was silent and the young blond kept his hand firmly clasped with Alfred’s the whole way, rather aware that the other boy’s grip was so tight it was painful; Matthew said nothing. Francis let both boys back into their room, lingering there for a while in a state of near exhaustion before departing slowly. There was a brief assurance that everything would be okay but whether Francis was telling the boys this or himself was unclear.  
Once alone the two children were quick to kick off their shoes and climb into bed, not bothering with going to separate ones at this point. Alfred kept his back turned to Matthew, keeping Lysimanche, who was still a mouse, secure from any form of touch. In response, it was Matthew was shifted up behind Alfred. Bumping his forehead against the other boy’s back and with Ottium nestled by the backs of his knees the younger blond let out a worried sigh and closed his eyes. It wasn’t worth wasting what time they had to nap with talking. He could only hope that Alfred, who was startlingly tense at the moment, would be able to sleep a little as well. Which, in the end, he did… only to have another dream plague him with restless slumber.  
Again Alfred found himself on that cliff overlooking the same stormy sea. This time, Alfred felt such an intense and heart shattering emptiness that he feared he might weep. Lysimanche was nowhere to be seen or found now and, distinctly, Alfred could feel hands on stomach now. Nails were digging into his skin through the fabric of his clothes, tearing the shirt he was wearing and leaving grooves in his abdomen. Instead of singing there was now the sound of low whispering and even in this strange dream with chilled wind whipping at him Alfred swore he could feel the heat of breath against his ear and neck. The feeling made gooseflesh prick up along his skin and his stomach flip uneasily. Trying to fight back the panic rising in him Alfred made an attempt to make sense of what the voice was whispering to him. It was English, if at least only partially, and he figured that if he could at least figure out what was being said to him maybe the dream wouldn’t be so bad. As he strained to hear the whispering the wind seemed to die down and the pressure of the nails digging into his skin lessened. Even then still the whispering itself seemed to falter to a near stop, now barely audible. It was frustrating but Alfred only made more of an effort to listen, being pleased that at least the forces of the dream was calming down with this new development. What Alfred heard then was something that almost jarred him awake as he quaked roughly in his sleep.  
“You’re going to help me destroy them.” The whisper was the last one before silence fell and the entire dream seemed to grind to a stop. The waves froze in place, the clouds ceased their endless swirling in the sky, and it was as if everything had been put on pause. Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Alfred felt faint and sickly as the stiffness of his limbs dissipated only for him to crumple to his knees limply. Another pair of arms caught him and lifted him back up, and for once Alfred felt like he might have some control of himself in the dreamscape. It was quickly dashed as his eyes snapped open suddenly and he found himself staring blankly up at the ceiling.  
It took several seconds for Alfred to register that Matthew, who was on his side currently, was staring at him with a deep set look of concern embedded in his gaze. Swallowing dryly, Alfred held Matthew’s look for a couple of moments only to glance away and roll back onto his side. God—this dream was getting out of hand. With this weird stuff happening Alfred could only ponder as to what was happening. Could it be a Nightmare? Perhaps it was the vengeful spirit of the skeleton Matthew and himself had disturbed. No, it couldn’t be that spirit. This dream had been happening far too long. Perhaps someone had cursed him. That seemed more logical than the spirit at least. Although, the idea of a Nightmare riding his chest and clutching his daemon was even more upsetting.  
Minutes ticked by in silence as Alfred felt Matthew slowly scoot back up behind him and go to sleep again without asking the older boy any questions. Alfred was fairly grateful for this in the end as he pet Lysimanche to try and calm himself down. The little mouse was shaking badly in his shirt but they could both only be glad that nothing had touched her again. That feeling was something no worldly weapon could replicate and Alfred hoped he would never have to feel it again. Not in his lifetime. Never. Eventually a man showed up in the boy’s room, one that for once Alfred was actually familiar with. In fact, so familiar with that the two smiled at one another as Alfred sat up. This disturbed Matthew again and the boy woke up with a soft whine, lifting himself up as well while running hand through his hair.  
“ ‘ello there, Freddy. Didn’t interrupt your nap, did I, sir?”  
“Sampson!” Sampson O’Reilly had been a part of Arthur’s crew for years now and Alfred regretted forgetting about the man with all that had been going on. He was one of the few nice things that came with a visit from Arthur. The man was very… normal looking. On the streets of Oxford he wouldn’t draw a second glance. He had rather milky skin that usually sported a tan from all his time spent in the sun and dark brown hair that was cut short in a style much like Arthur’s. Light brown eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and a vaguely crooked smile tied it all together with only a brief interruption by a scar that cut jaggedly across the young man’s throat. Alfred could still remember how Sampson had gotten it. He’d taken a knife across his throat for Arthur in a negotiation gone terribly wrong and was truly lucky he hadn’t died for the man that night. He treated Alfred just the same as he treated Arthur—with great respect and much adoration.  
So seeing the man with his terrier daemon, Adelaide, there in his room Alfred felt he could jump with joy. Lysimanche even felt herself forgetting the recent troubles of the dream and the talk with Arthur as she wiggled out from Alfred’s shirt and landed on the floor in a similar shape to Adelaide and went bounding up to the canine with glee.  
“Was a bit fearful you’d gone and forgotten ‘bout little ol’ me, Fred—Does my weary heart good to see you still recognize a friendly face! But c’mere, lad! Look at you!” Alfred did just this, running up to meet Sampson. The man caught him in a hug and Alfred found himself now able to rest his face into Sampson’s shoulder rather than being short enough that his head rested against the secretary’s chest. It felt strange at first but Alfred quickly got used to it. Sampson grasped Alfred by his shoulders and held him in place as he looked up him up and down with a hint of shock drawn over his features.  
“You’ve sprouted up like a weed, Freddy—I could’ve sworn you were only up my hip not but a year ago. What have these people been feeding you?” Alfred couldn’t help but grin at this as he pulled himself up a bit taller and let Sampson ruffle his hair. Matthew was shyly standing back away from the two, for once being put into the position where he felt he was intruding upon two others. When Sampson caught sight of the boy he nodded to Alfred and then tipped his head in the younger child’s direction with his brows raised.  
“Who’s this, lad? A friend of yours?” Alfred paused, unsure of what to say to this. As far as Arthur knew Matthew was just this kitchen servant he occasionally hung out with. Could he tell Sampson the truth without the man spilling it to Arthur later on? Thinking on this, Alfred looked between the two before nodding. Of course he could trust Sampson. Sampson was his friend after all, right?  
“Yeah, he is. His name is Matthew.” The man nodded and gave a short bow, paying a bit of respect to the other child as he flashed a smile.  
“Well, Matthew, do you happen to be having a last name? It’s in good habit to keep up with who exactly you’re talking with.” It was Matthew’s turn to pause slightly, tilting his head as he looked Sampson over.  
“It’s Bonnefoy. Matthew Bonnefoy.” Automatically Sampson seemed to straighten up, eyeing Matthew in bewilderment. Alfred felt a twinge of confusion pinch at him as the man looked from him to the other child and back.  
“I’d be damned… If that isn’t the most peculiar thing I’ve done and heard all day. A Bonnefoy? I thought you were looking a tad familiar, lad… Who do you hail from, Matthew?”  
“H… Hail from?”  
“Your parents, lad— you aren’t Francis’ boy are you? I thought he was…” Sampson trailed off before he finished speaking, eyes narrowing as he inspected Matthew closer. The boy shook his head at the question, seemingly confused as to why Sampson would think he was Francis’ child.  
“No… No, I am not. Francis is not my dad he’s… He’s…” Now that Matthew was being forced to answer this question he had to stop and think. What was Francis to him? Even Francis had neglected to ever actually tell Matthew how they were related. This suddenly was troubling Matthew more than it had ever before as he stared at Sampson hopelessly, unable to answer his own question. Luckily the man took mercy on him, nodding slowly and accepted what Matthew was saying. Alfred butted in now, trying to change the subject to save them all a bit of grief.  
“Sampson, what are you doing here anyways? Arthur did not send you right?”  
“Freddy, ye o’ little faith—maybe I dropped by of my own free will?” There was a pause as Alfred stared at Sampson with his eyebrows quirked up. In the background Ottium was hesitantly creeping over to join Lysimanche and Adelaide in the form of a small brown cat. Sampson cracked under Alfred’s suspicious gaze and rolled his eyes with a sigh.  
“Alright, lad. You’ve got me. A woman, real stout lady, caught me trying to check up on Francis. She told me he was busy resting and then instructed me to come wake you up. Something about not being able to sleep through the night if you stayed conked out any longer. This don’t mean I didn’t want to see you though, keep in mind.” Alfred accepted this answer well enough and Matthew had a sneaking idea that the woman Sampson was talking about was Mikyla Jovanneson. While Sampson crossed the room to go take a seat at the table on the opposite end Alfred started to pace to and fro and Matthew moved aside to sit on his bed.  
“I’ve heard word you had a long talk with your uncle already, Fred. He didn’t go too hard on your back did he?” This seemed to sour Alfred’s mood a bit but when he caught Matthew giving him some kind of cryptic look he felt the stinging aggravation calm to a dull agitation and stopped his pacing, watching Lysimanche and Ottium trying to catch Adelaide as she bounded about the room with the two younger daemons on her heels.  
“It was sort of dumb. I would rather not talk about it. He was just lecturing me on values of relationships and some other random things. That’s it really.” Alfred was mostly telling the truth. He was only leaving out a couple of details on it and Sampson was kind enough to let what was laying lie.  
“Sounds like the usual… He means well, Alfred, I promise ya that.” Matthew said nothing on the subject and resorted to simply listening in silence, looking back and forth between the two others. Alfred made an unsure expression at Sampson’s words, looking away as Lysimanche separated herself suddenly from Adelaide and Ottium’s tame playing to morph into the form of a cat and drag a paw over her face in an aloof fashion.  
“Yeah, you tell me that a lot you know. I get it.” While Sampson wrung his wrists in concern Adelaide moved away from Ottium and went to hop onto him, resting her front paws on his knee. The now idled daemon was left to return to Matthew’s side and rest on the boy’s lap as he observed Alfred and Sampson’s conversation.  
“It’s a shame it’s all I have left to say to ya, Alfred. It really is. But you have to just trust my words. He isn’t the best with kids. Part of the reason he just wants ya to grow up already, you see? Thinks it will be easier once you’re older.” This seemed to upset Alfred as he turned on Sampson, blue eyes showing the flash of anger that spiked through him clearly.  
“What if I don’t want to grow up?” The bitterness behind the question didn’t even make Sampson flinch as he pet Adelaide’s muzzle with a sympathetic look taking over his face. That was something nobody really ever wanted to do. It was no wonder a kid like Alfred wouldn’t want to grow up. He was a real Peter Pan. It took the man a while to figure out how to answer and in the meantime Alfred seemed to feel the barest beginnings of regret over the tone he had used.  
“I wouldn’t blame ya for not wanting to, Freddy. Being an adult blows real bollocks.” The rather mature nature of what Sampson had said actually made Alfred snort back a shocked laugh. A poorly suppressed smile twitched across the currently seated young man’s lips as he looked up at Alfred and puffed air through his nose.  
“You were supposed to rejoin Arthur after waking up, I might add. I managed to talk him out of it and told him you probably had studying to do. You’re welcome; enjoy your free time.” With that out in the open Sampson stood from his seat and said something to Adelaide before turning to Matthew and looking the boy over as if he was just realizing that he was there still. It was then that the young man bowed, rather deeply, and then straightened with his head still lowered slightly in respect.  
“A sure pleasure to meet you, Matthew Bonnefoy. You’ve got honorable blood in those veins of yours. Don’t forget that.” Giving one last hug to Alfred, who was a bit reluctant to let go, Sampson left the room with his usual purposeful stride and was gone off back to Arthur no doubt in no time. The boys did quite enjoy their free time, spending it lazing around their room rather than playing around or going off to the Vargas’ house. A couple of times the two would drift into light catnaps only to wake up a little while later still groggy and would talk a bit about random things before settling back down and drifting back to sleep. This went on for most of the day before the two finally sat up properly for dinner. Matthew ate in the room with Mikyla while Alfred’s presence was requested by Arthur. Luckily for Alfred, Francis joined them and the maids Pili, Quincy, and Alala were also present for the whole organization. When dinner was over Alfred was allowed to go back to his room where he was quick to change into his night clothes and crawl into the bed despite not being tired.  
In the meantime, Francis and Arthur slipped off to the quarters being loaned to the politician while he stayed in Jordan. Pili and Quincy followed at first, Quincy’s daemon Webster seeming to be eavesdropping in on Britainny and Voxilamort’s conversation. Or he was before the lioness daemon batted the less fierce rooster upside the crown and sent him skittering back to Quincy in a ruffle. It was then that Arthur dismissed the maids for the night and gave them a time to be back the next morning. Pili and Quincy both seemed a bit relieved if not slightly disappointed and left quickly while Pili’s monkey daemon, Adeyemi, perching on her shoulder for easier transportation.  
Francis entered the room first, find himself drawn to go take a seat at the big cherry oak desk that was moved up against the wall near the large windows that earlier had no doubt filled the room with sunlight. Now it gave an impressive view of the night sky with all its twinkling stars. Arthur closed the door behind them and was quick to start removing excess clothing such as his vest and at last took a seat, on the desk itself, to untie his shoes and take them off. There was a brief but comfortable silence between Francis and Arthur as the older man watched his younger friend make himself the most comfortable he had likely been all day. Britainny was quick to climb up onto the queen sized bed and lay down there, Voxilamort leaping up after her and taking a seat by the lounging lioness. After sighing Arthur finally spoke, hands linked together in his lap and head lowered.  
“There are things you’re keeping from me, Francis. I’m not a dumb man, you know. I felt it wouldn’t do any good to discuss them in the day so like a good friend I’ve held it off until now.” Automatically Francis let out a slightly exasperated huff and leaned back in the desk chair, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t say that Arthur was lying. They had known each other far too long to not know certain things about one another. It just wasn’t how that worked after all.  
“And like a good friend, Arthur, I keep things from you for a reason. I can only hope you will be able to actually understand that.” Arthur looked up through his lashes at Francis when the scholar said this, nostrils flaring slightly as he pursed his lips and then licked his teeth.  
“This isn’t a competition of who is the better friend, Francis. I would like to know what exactly you’re withholding from me and why. The more you say the more I see that it’s likely you’ll remain as stubborn as always and—“  
“Save your breath, Arthur!” The cry cut the shorter haired blond off abruptly and the look of insult on his face was clear as the night outside the window.  
“I beg your pardon?” Francis stared at Arthur with a mixture of anger and what appeared to almost be hurt, fingers of one hand pressed to his temple.  
“I do not need your shit right now. I have chosen not to tell you and I expect you to honor that. If not then I might as well take my leave now, damn it.” Arthur’s face actually started to redden at this but from what emotion was unclear. The younger man said nothing for several seconds, holding Francis’ expectant and upset gaze for the whole time before looking away and sighing to himself all over again.  
“I hardly have the will to bicker with you, old man. If it bugs you that bloody much I’ll leave it be.” The two settled back into silence as Voxilamort and Britainny watched them from the bed, obviously more at peace between themselves than the two men were. Eventually Arthur spoke again, slipping off the surface of the desk and going to undo his belt as he made his way to a cabinet.  
“I do remember requesting a stock... This kind of soberness is hardly the kind I can handle and I think we both need to damn well relax a bit. I’ll be pouring myself a bit—would you mind to join me?” Francis turned slightly in his seat as he watched Arthur throw his belt aside onto the bed and open up the aforementioned cabinet. Indeed it had been stocked. Multiple bottles of alcohol were resting inside along with a silver tray with multiple glasses atop it. All Francis could think was how he could definitely go for something to take the edge off but instead what came out was something entirely different.  
“I thought you had quit drinking.” There was actually a snort of a laugh from Arthur that managed to make a brief smile appear on Francis’ face before the other man answered him properly.  
“Oi, as far as anybody else needs to know I haven’t had a drop of liquor since ’02. This is between you and I. No shame to drink in good company, yes?” Francis merely shook his head as Arthur pulled the stopper from what appeared to be bourbon and took two glasses from the tray. They were both filled near the brim and then transferred carefully along with the bottle over to the desk. The two men made a silent cheers to whatever they felt worthy of cheering to; meanwhile, their daemons discussed together quietly and separately from them.  
It was Voxilamort who spoke first, nosing Britainny’s side as she eyed the seemingly dozing lioness. Of course Britainny wasn’t truly sleeping. She had always been one to enjoy resting in times of peace, and surely she considered now to be one no matter how emotionally unsettled Francis may be. In fact, maybe that was why she was trying to relax. Hopefully her state of content would rub off on Francis.  
“Brit, you haven’t spoken much today have you. Did you finally figure out how to be quiet or did I miss something?” Cracking one eye open, Britainny looked up at Voxilamort and repressed the urge to flash her teeth at the canine.  
“Oh? My, my, Vox—while I may have become quiet I can rest assured that your sense of humor has not improved a bit.” Voxilamort made a short noise of insult at this, all in good fun. She dropped down onto her belly, mimicking Britainny’s current position as she rested her head on her front paws.  
“I was under the assumption I was supposed to be the serious one, Britainny. When did you get so old, hm?”  
“My dear, I was always old, as are you. Perhaps I’ve just let all my lives catch up with me.” Voxilamort blinked at this before yawning right in Britainny’s face.  
“Boring. Your time among Francis and the scholars has turned you philosophical, love. Do tell me you’ll reconsider and go back to being fun.” Britainny closed her eye again, ears swiveled forward as she listened to Voxilamort’s comments. The canine had always been the more uptight one between the two of them. Then again, it wasn’t so much that Britainny was being uptight than she just didn’t feel like toying around. The usual banter wasn’t going to cut it for her; gentle back and forth was just enough.  
“I am afraid you’re sorely mistaken. I am the epitome of fun, you see. Right now, in my funny fun mind, I am imaging you being quiet and allowing me to reach maximum fun levels.” There was a soft scoff and a brief rising of voices as Francis and Arthur ended up laughing about something and then quieted back down.  
“Ah, I see how it is. Surely then you know you’ll never reach this goal. I just cannot let this happen. If this is your fun, then let you be boring. It would be more bearable I’m sure.” When Britainny didn’t respond to this Voxilamort lifted her head and raised a paw to swipe gently at the lioness’ face only to end up with her paw in the feline’s maw. Britainny didn’t bite down but rather just held the dog’s paw in her mouth as Voxilamort slowly deciphered what had happened. Once she did she was quick to pull her paw out and whined as she wiped it on the bed sheets.  
“Gross, Brit. Just gross!”  
“You shouldn’t have expected anything else, Vox. Honestly.” Suddenly both daemons froze, their attention being drawn to a separate presence in the room aside from themselves and both stood, looking around cautiously. Francis and Arthur seemed oblivious to this, currently wrapped up in one another and not quite paying attention. Britainny located the exact area of the disturbance quicker than Voxilamort, seeing as she was looking for it while Voxilamort was sniffing. There was something, definitely not somebody, in the corner of the room. A fly on the wall so to say; while Britainny kept her gaze intently trained on this singular spot something happened. The first thing she noted was a set of golden eyes seeming to flash into existence right before her very own and the baring of pearly teeth in an unsettling grin. The next thing that happened was all too fast for Britainny to process as she blinked once trying to get the image of that smile out of her head. It was almost as if the room was suddenly full of people and then just like that was only Arthur and Francis again.  
The fact both of the men were a bit too intoxicated to process their daemon’s incoming emotions withheld them from actually reacting to the shock and confusion that both Britainny and Voxilamort alike were feeling. The two daemons made eye contact, both silently agreeing that whatever that had been was not something they needed to be messing with. Tempting fate did nobody good. Perhaps it did best not to disturb Arthur and Francis with this news. In near inaudible whispers the two discussed it. That thing, had it been watching them? How long? What was it? It couldn’t possibly have been one of them, right? Eventually the two fell into silence as the night progressed and their two corresponding humans ended up in a deeply reminiscent conversation. It could be counted as intimate, perhaps, how they had slowly ended up. With Arthur sitting on the arm of the desk chair, glass in one hand and his other running back through Francis’ hair absentmindedly. Francis himself had abandoned his glass a bit ago, deciding he really had had enough, and was quite content with leaning into the touch and rubbing a circle on Arthur’s thigh with his thumb.  
What the two were actually talking about was unknown but when the chimes for midnight struck the two were abruptly pulled from their almost hazy dream-like states. Francis actually cursed aloud when he realized the ludicrous time that it was and was the first one to draw away, Britainny almost reluctant to follow. Rubbing at his drooping eyes, Francis managed to slur out a goodnight somewhere on the line between French and English and made his way to the door. Arthur watched him curiously, raising his glass to his lips and downing the last of the alcohol he thought he would able to handle for that night. The rest after this was a slow wind down from the high strung emotions of the day as, even with a good pinch of bourbon in his bloodstream, Francis felt his previous anxiety pecking its way back into his mind. At least the meeting with Arthur had gone well enough, Britainny assured him silently.  
There was no time to stop anywhere. The night was creeping to the morning already and Francis needed his sleep. Somewhere, off in another section of the college, the presence that Britainny and Voxilamort had sensed reappeared seemingly at random. Ducking through doors and along corridors and hallways it slipping into Alfred and Matthew’s room easily, creeping up to the side of the bed the two boys shared. Hands slowly reached out, intent clear but purpose unknown, and with no warning wrapped around Lysimanche’s sleeping form… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a month's time we find ourselves with a story that has doubled in length with a single chapter update. I think I might've died a bit inside writing all of this to be honest! I never expected it to end up so damn long and having to re-read and check and correct things with this much content was true suffering.  
> As a result, if you see something weird, it's likely because I was writing at an odd time of night and made a mistake that I didn't catch while trying to correct everything. On a brighter note, this was actually posted early so hey! Haha!  
> As always, hope you enjoy. Don't forget to leave feedback! Addio.


	4. Brought by Storm

The morning of July 6th brought a strong summer storm into Oxford that raged along the streets and rocked the boats in the canal roughly as they tried to keep still on the choppy narrow waters. The monsoon ripped shingles off the tops of roofs and rattled the windows in their walls, waters rising to dangerous levels at times. Sensible people stayed inside during this, careful to avoid the whistling windowpanes and doors that lead outside. Storms like this weren’t unusual but when you were a busy man expecting business arrivals or a dutiful worker who was determined to work they got a bit exhausting on your nerves. So, in the college there was unrest. Unease, even, some could say. None were as uneasy as Alfred Fredrick Kirkland though—Oh no, no. None came even close.  
Currently the boy was sitting in bed, stomach in a state of stress induced discontent as he listened to the wind howling outside the window. Matthew was still very comfortably asleep right in front of him, lips parted slightly as he snoozed and blond curls framing his face. He looked like something out of a picture to Alfred and the older boy almost wanted to jostle the younger blond awake if just to ruin the almost surreal image. Watching Matthew’s shoulders rise and fall with his breath with his face resting against his hands, Alfred sighed. He had woken up a while ago from the same old same old. Cradling Lysimanche, currently in the form of a turtle, against his stomach as he remained in silence Alfred couldn’t help but reach out and quickly pluck a wayward strand of curled hair from Matthew’s scalp. The boy was so deeply asleep that the little tug of the hair hadn’t bothered him at all and Alfred quickly dropped it aside.  
There had been no interruption yet for either Alfred or Matthew. Nobody coming into their room telling them to get up, no Francis swooping upon them with more work to do, and no visitors coming to chat— there was just nothing. Not that either of them could complain. After another long day yesterday with running around and Arthur actually talking to Alfred again, which in its own right was the most surprising development of the day, it was nice to just lay there; in Matthew’s case, to sleep. Alfred wished he could sleep as well but the threat of that reoccurring dream kept him from going doing so willingly. So the boy was stuck watching Matthew peacefully slumber the minutes away as the storm rumbled in the background.  
In the end Alfred eventually resorted to puffing air into Matthew’s face, seeing what he could do before the younger boy woke up. Although his face contorted slightly the sleeping blond did not wake. Instead, he stirred only enough to roll over onto his other side. Alfred’s lips pulled in a tested expression as he scooted a little closer to Matthew and started to trace his finger on the other child’s back absently. It was just random squiggles with the occasional star or circle thrown in. Soon enough Alfred found himself running his fingers up and down Matthew’s spine, poking and feeling at the ridges of the vertebra under the skin there. It was weird and something about it made the back of Alfred’s throat feel wet and made his skin tingle a bit. It wasn’t really pleasant or unpleasant. Just strange.  
When Alfred grew tired of Matthew’s spine he started to prod at his shoulder blades and eventually even pinched at the younger boy’s hips trying to find the bone. It was then that the younger child woke with an upset groan which was cut off with a yawn. When Matthew started to sit up Alfred quickly turned over, taking Lysimanche with him, and pretended to be asleep. Slowing his breathing forcibly, Alfred listened intently to Matthew through the whistling of the windows. He was probably looking around, Ottium just started to stretch out from where he had been curled around the boy’s neck in the form of a weasel.  
Alfred’s attempt didn’t exactly succeed as Matthew looked the boy over and silently reached out a wagged a finger against his side. Alfred automatically reacted with a squeak and slight recoil, having not expected to be tickled. When he turned back around, twisting his body instead of actually shifting completely, Alfred was met with a big smile from Matthew. One that even stretched up to his eyes and Alfred managed a smile back before the other blond’s gaze diverted to the window. The storm was still going strong and thinking on it now it was really surprising that it hadn’t woken Matthew up. As Matthew yawned again, Ottium lazily curled back around the boy’s neck as he flopped back down. Alfred turned completely then and sighed.  
“I’m bored…” Matthew didn’t answer at first, just scanning Alfred’s face with drooping eyes before blinking slowly and speaking then.  
“…What do you want to do?” Alfred wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. There was not much really to do, in all retrospect. Sighing heavily and in an exaggerated manner, Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and screwed his face up. Matthew actually giggled at this a bit and peeked down at Lysimanche as she shifted out of her shelled form and into something a bit more usual— a crow, in particular. She hopped up from where she had been resting and landed on Alfred’s arm, cawing lowly and ruffling her feathers. When she hopped farther up and started to preen Alfred’s hair casually the boy finally opened his eyes.  
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. Just… I want to do something.” Squirming slightly in place, Matthew repositioned himself and sighed softly. Without a clear answer from Alfred he really wasn’t sure what to do either. Finally sitting up properly, Matthew swung his legs off the side of the bed and stretched them. The stretch of muscle felt nice and the boy ended up yawning again as the last sleep started to edge away. He had a feeling he’d dreamt but he couldn’t remember what of. He vaguely recalled people-like things with goat heads and dog tails. It was just like the usual nonsensical dreams that he often had. Although thinking back on the fuzzy image of these strange creatures, Matthew felt his skin crawl. So perhaps it was a bit more nonsensical than usual.  
“Well there has to be something that we can do, right?” Alfred didn’t respond for a bit following suit after Matthew, sitting up and getting out of bed before stretching as well. Arms raised over his head and hands clasped together, back elongating and heels kept firmly on the ground—there were a couple of pops from Alfred’s joints as he gave a low groan of satisfaction and went limp.  
“We could wrestle. I mean, I would win but it would be something to do.” Matthew rolled his eyes at this, sizing Alfred up half-heartedly. The younger boy was starting to catch up a bit but Alfred had sprouted up rather quickly over the past few months with the supposed big bang of puberty approaching rapidly; Matthew doubted they’d be near the same height for long. And this wouldn’t be the first time he’d wrestled with Alfred either. Of course the older boy normally won. It was almost too easy how he managed to pin Matthew down, arms over his head or squeezed uncomfortably under his own back or stomach. Maybe Matthew could ask Tucker or Riley how to get stronger next time he got to see them.  
It was very sudden but not entirely unanticipated when Alfred easily knocked Matthew over and flipped him from his back to his stomach and held him down by his shoulders. Not unanticipated but entirely unappreciated. With a startled yell of protest Matthew squirmed under Alfred’s hold only get laughed at for his struggles. Lysimanche was guffawing heartily over the spectacle as Ottium finally uncurled from around Matthew’s neck and chirped at her angrily.  
“You are way too easy to get down, Matthew. Come on, are you even fighting back?” With a couple of fierce bucks Matthew actually managed to unsettle Alfred from where he was hovering over the younger boy and slipped away, circling back around as Ottium gave zip line pursuit after Lysimanche, morphing into the form of a large screech owl. The crow formed daemon was quick to fly off, bewildered slightly at Ottium giving chase first. Alfred watched Matthew carefully, actually intrigued that the other kid was going to actively participate in this game of pin or be pinned. After watching Matthew circle around him several times Alfred grew suspicious. What was he planning to do? Just walk around him until he got bored? It was then that Matthew quite effectively lunged forward and threw himself at Alfred’s legs right as the other boy was about to say something. This shut him up rather efficiently.  
With his footing being displaced and pushed back, Alfred’s balance tipped and he fell over Matthew who had curled into a ball to protect himself from Alfred’s own tumbling. The older boy barely caught himself before he ended up face planting into the ground and tried to get his feet back on the ground instead of being held up and straight out by Matthew.  
“H… Hey! What the heck?” Matthew didn’t answer and instead started to stand, propping Alfred’s ankles on his shoulders as he did so. Slowly Matthew elevated Alfred’s legs up higher and the boy was forced to change where he had his hands. Eventually the younger boy was setting his friend up into a wobbly handstand, holding Alfred by his knees as he leaned back to stare down at the quickly reddening and now completely upside down blond.  
“There. Are you still bored?” Alfred moved his hands a bit and made an attempt to keep his balance. His night shirt had slid up his stomach, or was it down, and was bunched around his chest. His pant legs likewise had ended up hooked around his bent knees. This was embarrassing enough to make his face redden but the blood rushing to his head did the job as well. Giving off an initially low whine that cracked and peeled up to a shrill pitch, Alfred strained to look up, or again was it down, at Matthew.  
“Not cool! Let go!”  
“Let go? Hmn, okay.” The second before Matthew’s hands left his legs Alfred realized his mistake. The other boy had been the one keeping him from falling over. Somewhere in the background, Ottium managed to drive Lysimanche down from the air and the latter of the two daemons shifted into the form of a rat upon landing and scurried under the bed. Ottium dived under the bed after her with a smooth transition from his owl form to that of a little white ratter dog. In the meantime Alfred wobbled precariously and tried to stay upright while Matthew observed him with an amused smile on his face. It was the one that Matthew sometimes made when he was deviously pleased by something—eyes narrowed despite his close-lipped smile not being big enough to do reach them, head tilted to the side and back minutely. It sometimes infuriated Alfred when he saw Matthew smile like this and other times it pleased him beyond belief; currently the smile made Alfred want to yell.  
“Wait, wait! I can’t stay up, Matthew—Help!” Head cocking further to the left, Matthew’s smile widened only slightly as Alfred awkwardly kicked at the air and started to tilt further to the side. When the boy ended up crashing into the ground, not all that painfully but more so embarrassingly, the younger snickered quietly. Alfred couldn’t tell if the blood was leaving his head or insistently staying in his face but whatever it was he didn’t care at that time. Scrambling to his feet Alfred made quick work of trying to shove Matthew down only to have the younger boy give a shocked look and bring him down to the ground with him, grasping the front of his still rustled up shirt and trying to use Alfred to keep himself from falling over. They were both down in a matter of seconds and the inherent hilarity of the situation was lost as the two ended up tussling, rolling around on the floor in a spectacular display. They knocked against assorted furniture pieces several times and Alfred could have sworn that Matthew pulled on his hair but he wasn’t sure.  
After rolling around for several minutes max the two boys separated, both of them breathing heavily and having gotten a couple cuts and scrapes. Matthew seemed particularly pleased that he had managed to avoid getting pinned again and Alfred seemed to have been bested for the time being, straightening himself out and brushing himself off. While Lysimanche tried to recover her pride after being battered around by Ottium in the two daemons’ own game of Cat and Mouse, she fled to Alfred’s side while Ottium pranced himself back to Matthew. Congratulations were swapped between the two while Lysimanche and Alfred calmed themselves over what they both saw as a defeat. Once Matthew and Ottium had wound down from their happiness Alfred stepped forward again.  
“You did alright… It’s probably just because you messed me up though, so don’t get too cocky about it!” Matthew kept his lips tightly pressed together, trying to repress his smile as he puffed air through his nose in a silent laugh.  
“Yeah, of course. You did alright too.” Alfred’s face went a bit red when his attempt to defunct Matthew didn’t work out as well as he’d planned. There was a silent resignation as the older boy nodded, knowing that Matthew wasn’t going to give under petty attempts. With their rough housing over the two found themselves a bit less bored for a while before idleness snuck back up on them. It was Alfred, again, who expressed this boredom and shook Matthew by his shoulder with a low groan.  
“Matthew. Mathew! I’m bored again.”  
“Alfred, it has only been a couple minutes. You cannot be bored already.”  
“Well I am. Come on, entertain me!” Matthew scowled slightly at being told to entertain his friend and hugged Ottium to his chest, the still canine daemon licking his face several times. Thinking over this for a bit, Matthew stared at his feet as he kicked his legs. What was there that they could do without getting in trouble? They had to be extra careful with Arthur in the college as well. Suddenly, something dawned on Matthew.  
“Let’s get dressed… Do you know where Mister Sampson is lodging? He seemed cool.” This confused Alfred at first before he agreed to the idea of finding Sampson O’Reilly and stood. Getting dressed would be a good option. Alfred also currently felt like his face was a bit grimy and God knew he didn’t want to deal with that acne stuff. He’d been washing his face religiously ever since he got his first pimple.  
“Yeah, I am pretty sure I know where he is. That is, if he is still in his room. I guess messing with him sounds like a good option.” Matthew nodded along with this and was quick to set Ottium down before rushing to go get dressed. There was a strip line that hilariously resembled one of the Vargas boys as Matthew went to go change into fresh day clothes. Alfred turned his back on this and went to go replace his own clothing. Once everything was said and done, faces washed and teeth brushed, the two boys regrouped at the bedroom door with their daemons in tow.  
“Ready?” This was said in unison as both boys turned to one another at the same time. After cracking smiles over it and laughing slightly the two exited their room and began the quest to find Sampson. There was a bit of absent chattering between the boys as they went along, neither of them really paying attention to what they or even the other was saying. It was noise for the sake of noise given that besides the sounds of the storm the college was deathly quiet. It was absolutely unreal. Matthew stopped repeatedly as they wandered on, always bending over to retie his shoe that he had yet to find out Lysimanche had been untying discreetly to mess with him. With this interruptive occurrence it took Alfred and Matthew a grand total of twenty minutes to get to the rooms where the Kirkland Company was staying. The hallway was a dead end and if Alfred had learned anything it was that Arthur’s room was always the last one which meant Sampson’s was the one before it.  
Alfred was the one that knocked on the door, tentatively at first and then more sure. There were the sounds of someone yawning heartily and covers shifting around; then the sound of a drawer being opened and then closed. The door was opened a crack, seemingly cautiously, before Sampson realized there was no threat on the other side of the door. It was merely Alfred and his little friend, Matthew. The knife that the man had brought with him just in case was thrown aside, thumping back solidly into the bed post where it stuck.  
“Freddy? God’s good name, lad… It’s the wee hours still. What are you doing up and dressed?” Alfred was already opening the door and entering Sampson’s room casually while Matthew gawked after him, slightly shocked at the intrusive nature of the other boy’s entrance. Sampson didn’t seem so surprised but more exasperated as he rushed to go retrieve and tie a robe around himself. Matthew entered at this point with slight hesitance, peering around the room with wide curious eyes. It wasn’t all that flashy. Not particularly filled with trinkets and gizmos but the boy had never been in one of these rooms before and it was still rather impressive. There were great posters and maps pinned upon the walls and spread out on the desk was strange tools, a new state of the art projection lamp, and all kinds of documents.  
As Alfred flopped upon Sampson’s bed, jostling Adelaide and fully awakening the daemon, Lysimanche went to go investigate the things on the desk only to be shooed away carefully by Sampson.  
“Alfred, boy, come now. Do they teach you manners here? Perhaps instead of science we should be signing you up for etiquette classes.” The young Kirkland said nothing to this but opted to scowl to show his displeasure with the statement. Crossing his ankles ironically and then folding his arms over his chest, Alfred quirked his lips to the side and looked Sampson over.  
“Entertain me. I’m bored, Sampson! We both are.” It was then that Alfred nodded to Matthew who was currently looking at a map that seemed to be a work in progress. It wasn’t of any place that the young boy could recognize even with his knowledge on the topic of maps and geography. Such came with much reading. All that was there to help make out what it was were three words printed in large but neat script in the center of the slowly growing landmass that the map was encompassing. ‘The Far East’. Matthew knew that they called the lands past Austria-Hungary where the unofficial Baltic-Slav tribes lay ‘The East’ but… There wasn’t any land past that, or so he had read. What could this ‘Far East’ possibly entail?  
“Oi! Away from that, Matthew Bonnefoy! God’s good—Alfred, you cannot just come barging into my room because you found yourself idled! Don’t you have toys? Games? Perhaps missed study work? I was trying to sleep, you know.” Alfred wasn’t swayed by this but instead leaned a bit, interested suddenly in what Matthew was now being driven away from. Sampson was quick to pull out the tacks keeping the map up on the wall and let the parchment fall, paper curling in on itself of its own will.  
“Yeah, but I am bored.” There was more stress put on the word ‘bored’ now as Alfred unfolded his arms and fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  
“It was Matthew’s idea anyways! Now tell us a story! Come on!” Sampson first seemed shocked and then it turned to frustration as he shot a stern look Matthew’s way and picked up the curled map, going to stash it someplace else as he went to clear the papers from his desk. Adelaide had just chased Lysimanche from reading the papers, keeping the avian daemon occupied as she lept up in the air impressively and smacked at the bird’s tail feathers and talons.  
“Tell you a story, you said? Well, if you do so insist…” Alfred sat up automatically, struggling only slightly as he did so. Matthew in the meantime paced over to stand by the bed, Ottium taking wing in the form of a sparrow to perch on the bedpost where the knife was embedded. The daemon inspected it curiously but said nothing about it. While Sampson stuffed the map and papers away he started to mumble under his breath, a bit agitated at the two boys for bursting in on him like this. When he was done he retied he robe and turned to face the two boys with his hands on his hips and eyes narrowed.  
“You said you wanted a story, yes?”  
“Yeah, I did. Quit stalling!... Please?” Sampson shook his head at this and went to spin his desk chair around, taking a seat as Adelaide scampered over and jumped in his lap. Patting his daemon with a tuneless hum the man thought over what he was being asked. A story. He had plenty of those of course, but which one could he possibly tell to two kids. Admittedly some of the stories were less child friendly than other but this was like picking between two stones in the context of which you’ll eat. Either way you’re still eating a damned rock. Eventually Sampson settled with one that he thought was at least mildly appropriate. He’d cut out some of the more explicit details and call it good. Clearing his throat, the young man folded his hands together and leaned back. Alfred and Matthew both were already rapt, leaning forward expectantly.  
“There was a time, back when I myself was closer to your age and Arthur to mine, when we were both still much more rambunctious than we are now… That we embarked on a great voyage as a test of worth. You see, there was rumor of great adventure to be had farther west and I’m not sure if you could tell from his demeanor and professionalism but Sir Arthur Kirkland is a man who craves adventure if nothing else.” Sampson started speaking, quietly and hesitantly at first as he tried to find the right words.  
“It was on a particular stretch of water that we happened upon a flat of uncharted land, mostly rock, and our man up in the nest spotted something peculiar on the cliff face. Now, it would sound far-fetched to anybody. If you’d told me a tale as such before this had happened to me I wouldn’t believe you either but do keep in mind, lads, you don’t have to believe this.” With a long pause, which was spent mostly with Sampson rubbing his jaw in thought, the story was continued.  
“There up on the rocks was a person. A living person, no worries, but the scenario was bizarre. The person up on the rocks was a boy, about my age maybe a little older, dressed in what had probably once been a white tunic. He had rather dark hair, caked with sea salt at the time, and dark skin as well. He was up on the side of these rocks in chains…” Another pause was taken as Sampson eyed the two boys, making sure they were still listening.  
“Now… It wasn’t as if this was something you see every day so as honest folks we were we went to investigate. Perhaps check to see if the person was even still alive to begin with. Who knows what compelled us but when we pulled up to the cliff face the boy stirred and began to yell to us. We couldn’t tell what he was saying to us but given we now knew the poor chap was still kicking… Well, it was my idea to try and get him down from the cliff face.” Matthew raised his hand at this point and Sampson nodded to him silently, allowing him to speak whatever it was he had to say.  
“Mister Sampson, where was his daemon?” Alfred nodded after Matthew said this, looking at Sampson expectantly as the man wondered how he could possibly phrase this. As truth went, the strange person they’d found on the rocks had told them that his daemon had simply left him. That she had taken wings, changed from her form erratically and much to his discomfort, and had flown away. The story had bewildered and frightened all those on board of that ship and watching this young man walk around without a daemon by his side had been eerie and unsettling. He didn’t feel it would be appropriate to tell two children this, of course. How would they react to such a tale? Running his tongue across his teeth the man sighed. Okay, a little white lie wouldn’t hurt.  
“She was there. She was a bird, although I can’t remember what kind. Anyways... The whole process of getting this boy down from the rocks was grueling and honestly better left unspoken. There is, to say, one interesting part of the whole thing that I would like to elaborate on.” There was a long pause left to hang. Sampson admittedly knew he wasn’t the best talesman. He had plenty of stories to tell but not a good tongue to weave them together. Oh well, he’d already started now. There’s no getting better at things without practice after all. Tongue flicking out to dash across dry lips, Sampson swallowed and then spoke once more.  
“You see, we didn’t yet realize it, but this poor chap had been strung up there as some kind of gruesome sacrificial offering—God’s good name, I meant—“ It was far too late for Sampson to take back what he had said, only realizing precious seconds later that his idea to censor out some of the less kid friendly things had just gone down the drain. Matthew’s jaw had dropped, his eyes blown wide with shock. Alfred seemed to be gauging how he should react off of how Matthew was and while he looked startled the older boy also seemed more confused than anything. Sampson made a quick ‘be quiet’ gesture to Matthew and shook his head; as Alfred opened his mouth to question this the younger blond placed a hand on the older boy’s knee and gave it a squeeze. This seemed to effectively silence Alfred as he looked at Matthew in bewilderment and then back to Sampson.  
“Anyways! Basically we got into a nasty squabble with a band of cliff crawlers after we got the boy down. They were all over the ship when we got back and we’d lost three crewmates to them already when we’d returned. You know, I’d never seen Arthur pull a sword so quickly. He and Voxilamort were on the crawlers faster than a blink of the eye. Of course I had to jump in with him. I kept the poor sap we’d taken out of chains with me as we went hacking away, trying to drive these cliff beasts off. It was a real wild thing to observe I bet, Arthur and myself back to back against these things while I tried to keep some scrap of a person up on his two feet…”  
“You fought with swords?” Alfred was the one to ask this, head cocked to the side curiously as he eyed Sampson with interest. Sword fighting. He’d known that Arthur was learned in it, obviously, and Francis has confessed upon pestering that he and Arthur used to fence back when they were younger but the actual though of sword fighting… It excited Alfred. After all, sword fighting was something that only the best did. Like knights and victors of good. He’d be a liar if he were to say he hadn’t had pretend sword fights with evil-doers of his imagination before.  
“Of course we did, lad. What did you think we’d do? Fight these things fist to fist? As I was saying… Arthur and I were the first two to engage and with your uncle, Alfred, yelling at the others they very quickly joined in the fight. He sure has a way with his words, he does… Soon enough we drove them right off, had taken out two of them before the whole thing was over. Really sent them running, we did.” Matthew spoke again now, raising his hand again but not waiting to be called upon. His brow was furrowed and lifted minutely as his lips pulled into a troubled frown. Sampson could only guess it was because the boy was still mulling over what the man had accidentally let slip.  
“Did you find out why the boy was up there? What was his name? Did he get better?” Sampson nodded as Matthew asked his question. He had neglected to tell them much about the mystery person that was playing in-distress of the story. Whether this was for a specific reason or otherwise could be debated. For now, Sampson just ran a hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes, one hand still petting Adelaide as she slowly drifted to half consciousness in the man’s lap. Pondering over himself Sampson eventually spoke again as the two boys started to murmur back and forth about something.  
“His name was Rykier.”  
“That’s a weird name.” Alfred interjected. Lysimanche twittered in agreement, stopping from preening her feathers as she peered over at Ottium. The daemon had taken on the form of fawn and was resting his head on Matthew, big brown eyes flicking over to meet her own beady gaze momentarily before returning to Sampson.  
“You would think it, wouldn’t you? Trust me, Freddy. There are stranger out there. But yes, his name was Rykier and as I said he was strung up there to be left for his Death at the claws of the cliff crawlers. He told us a tale of a great god, one of many, who had told his parents to string him there. Like the story Isaac and Abraham. He was very tearful and promised his life to… well, me. He insisted I was his savior-- like some unnamed hero of legend who apparently saved a princess from a similar fate…”  
“Wow… So you really are some big hero, aren’t you, Sampson! That’s so cool!” Alfred was particularly thrilled about this, bouncing in place on the bed slightly as he shifted positions and grinned at the older man. Matthew steadied himself and his daemon as Alfred did this, duly impressed with what Sampson had told them but not nearly as excited.  
“I suppose? I wouldn’t think I’m much of a hero, Fred. More just… a Good Samaritan.”  
“Mister Francis says false modesty is worse than real pride.” Matthew offered this softly, that smartly sly smile from earlier popping up on his face and Sampson practically recoiled in shock at the sight of it. Alfred, on the other hand, adopted his own curling grin in response to Matthew’s words. Although he wouldn’t take them the heart personally he would surely remember them another time to say to Sampson. Sampson’s shock was not to be taken all too lightly as the man did look rather shaken. How such a look had the power to do this was unclear. Sampson hadn’t even considered the realization that had positively struck him blind. Blinking blankly at Matthew as the boy’s smirk held strong Sampson swallowed thickly and collected his wits about him, giving a vague laugh.  
“You’re a smart boy, aren’t you, Matthew Bonnefoy? Must run in the family… I’ll accept the heroic praise, I suppose. It was just the right thing to do, mind you. That’s what makes a real hero. Not looking to do good things for the praise but just because it’s right.” The brown haired man looked at Alfred in particular as he said this but when he was not met with any real understand or acceptance he sighed and looked down. Adelaide had lifted her head, giving him an inquisitive look, almost as if she was asking why he was bothering. Alfred was eleven—twelve, he reminded himself. Alfred was twelve. He shouldn’t be expected to have the same morals and principals that a grown weathered man has. Sampson watched as Adelaide lowered her head again, resting her muzzle on her paws as he her eyes closed again.  
“As it goes, Rykier stayed with us. Arthur said that if he was indebted to me then he was just about the level of some servant. I, of course, was against the idea of using the poor lad… Luckily Arthur’s mind on such subject has changed as of late, I might add. We fed him, bless his ragged ghost, and gave him fresh clothes. The whole good deal. Since the chap was skin to bone tired I let him retire to my bed seeing as I wasn’t feeling all too much myself. Cliff climbers are ghastly things, lads. Once you look one in the eye you surely don’t forget it.” The two boys nodded solemnly as Sampson told them this, a slight shiver passing through Ottium that transferred to Matthew fluidly. For a couple of seconds Matthew wondered if he could convince Francis to lend him the book they had learned about the Panserbjorn from. Perhaps these cliff dwelling beasts were in that book as well.  
“Is that it? What about now? Does Rykier still travel with you? Is that all that happened?” Alfred fired off question after question, leaning forward again as he eyed Sampson curiously. He’d never heard of anybody named Rykier in Arthur’s party before and this story was news to him as much as it was to Matthew. The boy could only wonder why he’d never heard this tale before as he waited for Sampson to answer him. The man seemed to be thinking his answers over very thoroughly. It was Matthew who first wondered if perhaps the story was falsified and that was why the man before them was taking so long with each section of the story. He quickly dismissed this notion. It wouldn’t be like someone as important as Sampson to lie, right? He was a real adventurer and a sort of right hand for Arthur of all people. Who would lie about a story like this anyways?  
“Yes, that is about it. Rykier… Well, he isn’t traveling with us anymore no. He was never officially a part of Arthur’s crew and since he wasn’t a member of the party he never really did business with us which made him a sort of strange tag-a-long. I would say though that he was in quite the state of distress when I got myself this bugger.” In reference Sampson tipped his chin up and raised a finger to tap at the jagged and warped scar tissue across his throat. Matthew visibly winced, hand rising to his own throat and he gulped. Just looking at the old wound made the young boy’s skin crawl and creep in discomfort.  
“See, although I’m… sure Arthur was in some distress over me bleeding half to my own Death on the ground, it was Rykier who went down with me. Sort of repaid his debt in the end seeing as he may well be the reason I’m still walking and talking. Still not sure how he did it… Whatever it is he did, I’m still grateful to him.” While Matthew silently tried to dismiss the image of Sampson’s long since scarred over wound opened and bloodied, Alfred seemed dumbfounded. He could hardly imagine what it would be like to just not have Sampson. He supposed even he owed something to this strange Rykier person.  
“Where is he now?...”  
“Rykier? God only knows, Alfred. The last I saw of him we were parting from arms. That was back when you were still toddling, maybe? Perhaps half a decade or so... Admittedly, sometimes I do miss him slightly. He was odd, but it was a nice kind of odd. Something weird but pleasantly so. I remember he enjoyed drawing, was fairly good at it too. Wonder what he’s doing now… I think I might’ve gotten a letter from him a couple years back, but I’m not sure.” There was silence after Sampson said this as all occupants of the room fell into somber quietness. It really was strange to think about how someone met by chance that two of the three would likely never meet in their life could have such an impact. If Sampson hadn’t crossed paths with Rykier they would likely both be dead right now. This story would never have happened and there would be nothing to say about it. While Alfred still struggled to wrap his head around this, Matthew was quicker to understand the implications. How bizarre…  
“Mister Sampson, I have a question.”  
“What is it, Matthew Bonnefoy?”  
“It’s kind of off topic, but… What was that map? The one that you put away?” This caught Alfred’s attention away from the more depressing subject matter at hand and the older boy perked up automatically, Lysimanche hopping along his shoulder to and fro in sudden excitement. Sampson’s mouth tightened into a thin line as his brown eyes narrowed at Matthew. Should have expected that from this boy, shouldn’t he have? Folding his hands over his daemon’s back the man leaned back in his chair with a low long sigh.  
“Matthew, has anybody ever told you that sometimes things are better left unknown?”  
“… Yes, sir. Mister Francis.”  
“Figures. One day, maybe soon maybe not—but definitely when you’re older, you’ll know. I promise you that.” Matthew wasn’t sure what to make of this answer. He really wanted to know now, and looking over to Alfred the younger blond could tell that the older boy also wanted to know. In fact Alfred was opening his mouth even as Matthew was thinking in silence, ready to demand that Sampson tell him—pardon, them—what the map from earlier was of. Before the words could even begin to leave Alfred’s mouth Sampson quite abruptly started speaking again, obviously changing the subject with a smart glance to Alfred as he did so.  
“That’s your story, now-- it’d be nice to have you both scurry along so I can get dressed.” Mouth closing and tightening stubbornly, Alfred eyed Sampson sharply before his gaze softened and his facial muscles relaxed back to neutral. Head turning as Alfred fixed his line of sight elsewhere the elder boy refused to move from his spot, not even shifting in position.  
“Just get dressed. We won’t peek, right Matthew?” Matthew was at a loss for words; mouth opening and closing silently as he took a breath each time before huffing it back out. Sampson looked slightly irked with this but knew he would get nowhere trying to talk Alfred in the other direction. Giving Matthew an apologetic look the man shook his head and stood from his seat, Adelaide sliding off his lap easily as she padded off and took a seat at the end of the bed. Barking something at Sampson, to which the man laughed at, the terrier daemon gave a grin of sorts. Lysimanche tucked her head under her wing as Alfred closed his eyes and Matthew covered his with his hands, Ottium only narrowing his eyes slightly. Still hesitant to go about undressing in front of the two boys Sampson was slow to even tug open the robe. Granted, they were all men by birth here. Maybe he was just being much too nervous about it. So, without much further ado, Sampson shed his robe and went to start dressing himself in fresh clothes. While he was occupied with thinking about showers and cologne the man was practically oblivious to Matthew watching him curiously through the gaps in his fingers.  
There was nothing particularly revealing about the situation and although Matthew could feel his ears burning a bit he didn’t feel much embarrassed or even as much of a trespasser over watching Sampson currently. If anything the boy was just curious about the curves and shapes of the man’s body—the different muscles and where certain bones stood out prominently along with where fat settled. The younger boy had taken a particular interest in the human body and it was only natural that he would be curious about a body that would be, in the barest sense, like his own. Quickly covering his peeping up from Sampson as the man turned to check that neither of the boys was looking yet, Matthew sucked the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth and bit the flesh. Alfred still had his eyes closed, lids moving slightly as his gaze shifted blindly behind them. He was beginning to get impatient already, but just their luck that Sampson was finishing up. Matthew peeked back out just in time to see Sampson pulling a shirt down over his torso and down to the waist line of his pants where he was quick to start tucking it in.  
“Oi, I’m decent now.”  
“Good, I was getting bored again.” Alfred was quick to answer, eyes snapping back open as his pupils contracted once more down to their previous size. The boy blinked a couple more times before looking over to Sampson, giving the man a critical look up and down before nodding. Sampson nodded back, taking this as a sign of approval from the younger Kirkland and quietly started to pace the floor.  
“Sampson, don’t just walk around. Now I really am bored again.” Alfred’s groaning was taken in stride as Sampson sighed to himself and went back to his desk where he opened up a drawer and dug around briefly before producing a package of cards. Matthew recognized them automatically although it took Alfred a little while longer to decipher what the item was. This due in part to the fact Matthew had witnessed plenty of card game played among the servants while Alfred had more or less only seen scholars participating in ‘games of knowledge’. That of which didn’t include games of aces and jacks.  
“Cards?” Sampson nodded at Matthew’s simple inquiry. Cards indeed. A good complete deck and even one person who knew a few good games could keep just about anybody entertained for a couple hours at most. It was damn convenient that Sampson had managed to keep a hold on his own deck despite Arthur having said playing poker and other card games of chance was unprofessional. Mainly because Sampson knew the only reason the man had said that was because he could never win. Poor, poor, Arthur.  
“Yes, cards, Matthew Bonnefoy. You know how to play?” Matthew nodded quickly, shifting in place as he moved to get more comfortable. Alfred looked between the other two and then glanced to Lysimanche, a couple of words being passed between the two before they both went quiet and listened.  
“Good, good. It’s always good in charm, you know? A man good with cards is a man good with people. Here, Matthew. Why don’t you take Fred here along with you and go teach him how to play a round of Black Jack?” The card deck was passed to Matthew who took it, murmuring a ‘thank you’ and a ‘yes sir’ one after the other. Alfred was quick to start reaching over to take the cards from Matthew only to have his hand intercepted by Sampson’s and given a firm shake. Alfred stared at the brunet in bewilderment as he did this and just withdrew his hand and put it back in his lap when Sampson released it. The raise of eyebrows and the small smile was enough to clue the boy in. Just the usual reminder of ‘ask before you take’. The slightly sarcastic smile back was a silent of ‘yes Sampson, of course Sampson’. It did well enough despite Sampson knowing full well Alfred was likely to do so again later but left it be, returning his attention to Matthew.  
“You two wouldn’t mind leaving me be then would you? I hate to dismiss company, but do keep in mind I am a busy person. Feel free to keep those cards as long as you’d like by the way. It’ll be very easy to get myself another deck.” Matthew nodded along to this, grabbing Alfred’s hand on instinct and starting to tug on him to lead him away. He didn’t mind leaving Sampson be. A deck of playing cards was just what they needed to waste a couple hours away and keep their—more so Alfred’s—boredom at bay. The older boy didn’t budge at first but a particularly insistent tug from the younger blond and a pleading look from Sampson was enough to get the Kirkland child moving.  
Sampson moved to open the door for the two boys, slightly relieved that the two now had something to do. He had work to do after all and he didn’t need them asking a bunch of questions he wasn’t allowed to answer; Lord knew he would accidentally let something slip. Especially with Alfred in particular. But with the two boys leaving Sampson was left be and the children made with great haste to get back to their room, Alfred walking quickly while Matthew jogged. Ottium cantered along at Matthew’s side while Lysimanche rested on the deer’s back still in her avian form. Per the norm, the two blond’s hands were clasped together as they traveled along. Upon arriving back to their room the two boys were met by Alala and a Chigaru waiting in their room with food. The young woman smiled brightly upon seeing Alfred and Matthew enter, raising a hand in greeting as the two younger boys beamed back at her.  
“Hey! You’re the girl—what are you doing here?” This was Alfred who spoke, releasing Matthew’s hand as the boy used his newly freed appendage to wave at Alala in a friendly manner. The woman laughed slightly at Alfred’s question and greeting but answered nicely.  
“Yeah, it’s me! Mikyla had the businesses and askt me to bring your breakfast today, is all. Don’t worry, Young Mast’r Kirkland, I ain’t following you or nothing.” Alala, as many servants did, talked in a slightly funny way. It was less formal and sometimes stress was put on different syllables than usual. The way she’d said nothing was particularly interesting—not-thing. It was charming in its own little way and surely a refreshing break from the strict speech of the scholars. As if to accentuate her point the dark skinned woman gestured to the cart of food in a slightly dramatic fashion, obviously playing around with the two kids.  
“Missus Alala, that is very nice of you-- Thank you.” Matthew’s kind words were taken graciously as Alala nodded to her once fellow hand servant.  
“Breakfast sounds great right now, actually! What do you have?” Alala lifted up the plates easily at this point, laying them out on the table where the two blond’s often did their studies. There were two bowls present with the plates as well and from what the boys could gather this likely meant that porridge was being served. Alfred was the first to the table, a bit excited about Alala being there some might note. He’d only just met the maid two days prior but he seemed rather taken with her— which, in all hindsight, was not surprising. Alala was a beautiful woman and charming to boot. Inquisitive and curious, but also faithful, it was easy to fall smitten with a person like her. Chigaru helped to add to her appeal, with his impressive lean body and especially friendly demeanor. Of course Alala still had fight to her, but not any fight that she currently had use of in her position. Maids didn’t have many chances to explore and exchange clashes of blades, most would find, but if they did Alala would definitely be doing so more often than not.  
“There’s the good stuff ‘n usual, Young Mast’r Alfred. We gots porridge, and we gots fresh fruits; Breads ‘n the jams too with that good fluoride in the water for your teeths ‘n the likes.” All of the food was laid out and presented in a matter of seconds as Chigaru and the two younger daemons started to pounce about after one another playfully. Sliding into his seat, Alfred went to reach for the food only to have Alala bwap his hand away. A mildly surprised look popped up on his face as he looked at her and then looked back to Matthew who was just taking his seat. Once the more was seated the dark skinned woman moved away and gave Alfred a smile and a nod. Oh. She had been having him wait for Matthew. Well, Alfred supposed, that was fair enough.  
“Good morning to you, Matthew.” Alfred almost laughed when he heard Alala say Matthew’s name. The way she had said it, it just sounded strange. Almost as if she was trying really hard to get the right about of syllables and it had ended up ‘mat-thew’. The other boy merely smiled up at Alala and greeted her in turn, so Alfred opted to keep in his giggles for the time being. There was food to be eaten anyways; Alala had been right. There was good food, per the usual. The porridge was thick and covered in a dusting of brown sugar, little chunks of fresh fruit most likely hidden within it, and to the side there was buttered bread slices; the bread had been toasted. A small pot of jam was set between the two of them and the usual large glasses of ice water were there by their glasses of milk. There was a small serving of sunny side up eggs that Alfred couldn’t help but eye and a bowl of hashed potatoes to share between the two of them. Although, given Alfred felt like he might as well have been starved, it was likely the elder of the two would eat the eggs and hash before Matthew even finished his bowl of porridge.  
While the two ate quietly Alala caught sight of the deck of cards that Sampson had given to Matthew. Her dark eyes immediately gained a twinkle to them as her lips pulled back into a smile. Taking a hold of the cards she picked the deck up and started to open it.  
“Matthew, you gots yourself some cards now? Who done gaves you these— Tuck? Stein? Ruddy or Pence?” Matthew took several moments to reply, having been in the middle of biting off a chunk from a slice of bread. Once he had chewed and swallowed the youngest of the three answered, carefully tucking hair back behind his ear.  
“Mister Sampson gave them to me actually. He is one of Lord Kirkland’s assistants.” Alala blinked in awe at this, mouth opening into a small ‘o’ as she shuffled the cards absently. Alfred spoke up now, not minding to swallow all his food since he was in the middle of chewing.  
“Yeah, we went to see Sampson earlier because we were bored. That’s why we were not in here when you arrived.”  
“Is that so now? Well ain’t that sweet. He’s the real handsome looking fella with the scar round his neck like a choker, ain’t he? I was thinking on him-- was thinking ‘Now Alala your Mama always knew you was a dreamer but this is one fine man and it would do you some good to aks his name’. That I did think, you know.” Matthew snickered a bit under his breath, eyebrows arching up as he gave Alala a pleasantly surprised look. Alfred on the other hand was surprised in a different manner. So Alala knew who Sampson was and now he knew she fancied him. When Alala casually started to play with the card it caught the older boy’s attention while Matthew went back to eating. She was flipping them through the air and catching them expertly between the tips of two fingers and twirling them around and occasionally pulling a card from seemingly nowhere. The show was so impressive to the young Kirkland that, with a sudden look of determination on his face, he set his eating utensils down and leaned forward towards the dark skinned maid.  
“Hey. Teach me how to do that.” Alfred’s words caught the woman by surprise as a card fell from her finger tip and spiraled to the floor. Matthew was the first to stoop to get it and retrieved it with only a little bit of stretching and finger tip reaching. Alala merely looked past the boy, to Chigaru, who was already looking back to her with muddy green eyes wide and interested. Ottium was in the form of a cat as well and pounced after Chigaru’s tail even while the older daemon was distracted. Lysimanche had already fled from the fun and games to Alfred’s side in the form of a crow, her dusty brown feathers ruffled slightly.  
“What’s it you want me to teach you, Young Mast’r Alfred? It ain’t nothing but some fancy card tricks n’ the likes.” Alfred was hearing none of it, waving Alala’s modesty off and staring intently at the King of Hearts that she had dropped and that Matthew had retrieved. The allure of the simple face card was strong. Alfred reached for the card and picked it up with ease, holding it between two fingers as he had seen Alala do and looked it over.  
“It was cool. I want you to show me how to do it too.” Matthew stared at Alfred with an unreadable expression on his round youthful face. Blinking once when Alfred turned his blue hued gaze on him, Matthew merely tilted his head to the side minutely and said nothing to the older boy. Alfred looked back to Alala after the strange moment of eye contact between him and Matthew, watching as the darker skinned woman pulled the Queen of Hearts from the deck.  
“What’s it yous is wanting to learn first, Young Mast’r? You know how to shuffle them?” Alfred passed the face card over to Alala who took it and slipped the two Heart cards back into the deck at random. Matthew merely kept eating although he observed the two others as they interacted. It was interesting to him. Alfred shook his head at Alala’s inquiry and scooted his chair noisily over so he could get closer. Shuffle, wasn’t that how some old people walked? Alfred could practically hear Lysimanche’s voice in his head—‘Well Alfred obviously it also has to do with cards’. Of course, Lysi, he would say back. It obviously has to do with cards as well.  
“Teach me how to do that. Shuffling.” Alala’s eyebrows arched up briefly before she merely nodded and straightened the cards by tapping them to the surface of the table. Alfred watched in silence as she did so, obviously very concentrated. The woman split the deck down the middle, tapping both sections against the table again before setting the on the table and picking up the ends of them. Pushing them closer together she flipped the cards down against one another. The result was a deck that was completely randomized anew and Alala looked up at Alfred to see if he got it. There was no nod, just a very intense stare as Alfred opened his hand palm up for Alala to pass the deck over. It was always very strange when Alfred put his mind to something. All of his tomfoolery and playfulness seemed to vanish and he became entirely serious, focused on what he was trying to do.  
Taking the deck from Alala, Alfred eyed it before doing what Alala had done—tapping it against the table to straighten the cards before splitting the deck in two. Matthew watched as Alfred tried to do the actual shuffling part of shuffling. It was only minimally successful but Alfred seemed pleased with his first time results, tapping the cards back together before trying again. This time he did much better and proceeded to hold the cards out to Alala. The woman gave a small smile and plucked a card from the deck, the King of Hearts again, and Alfred lowered the cards in awe.  
“How did you know where it was?”  
“Call that a lucky guessing, Young Mast’r.”  
“It is a magic trick, you know.” Matthew offered this answer up casually, shoveling the final fork full of hash into his mouth after he spoke. Alfred was briefly upset that Matthew had eaten all the hash while he was distracted but brushed it on.  
“A magic trick…”  
“Well, it’s more like a slide of the hands, Young Mast’r Alfred, in honestly.” There was a mumble from Ottium, in the background, that magic tricks sounded cooler to which Chigaru snickered in response. Alfred merely squinted at the card being held up and reached out, taking it from Alala before stuffing it back in the deck and returning the cards to her. She took them, looking them over and then drawing a card from it once more. This time she produced the Queen of Spades. Alfred watched carefully as she showed him the front and back of the card and then as she tuck the card back into the deck. She then set the deck down and reached towards Alfred, rubbing her middle finger on the back of his ear before withdrawing her hand away—this time holding a card which she promptly showed him was the Queen of Spades. Alfred’s jaw dropped. Hadn’t he just watched her put that card back in the deck?  
“How did you do that?”  
“Magic.” Put in Matthew, clearly pleased that he knew exactly what Alala was doing but Alfred had no idea. He had learned plenty of things from Riley Stein who really was a bit too eager to teach people a variety of card tricks. Alfred seemed to now be convinced that yes this was magic, despite Alala having already told him it was merely a trick of the eye. Alala gave Matthew a look that clearly said ‘Oh you’ before she put the Queen card back.  
“A’right, I‘d admit it! My grandamama was a magic woman.” It was all in good sporting fashion as Alala told Alfred something that wasn’t quite a lie. Alfred seemed thrilled with this; his food now completely forgot, and slowly being fished over by Matthew, Alfred leaned closer to Alala and inclined his head in curiosity.  
“Can you teach me how to do it too?” Alfred seemed persistent to get Alala to teach him how to do these tricks, but as Matthew ate the last of the food Alala set the cards down by Alfred and began to collect the dishes up. Alfred opened his mouth at first to say something before he shut it quickly and eyed the cards. Instead of pestering her to sit down and teach him the card tricks, the eldest boy picked the cards up and began to mess with them again. Matthew in the meantime helped Alala load the dishes on the cart. All was said and done in a quick time; with Chigaru on her heels Alala gave a hasty goodbye to Matthew and Alfred. There was a promise thrown over her shoulder that maybe she’d teach Alfred a trick next time she came to their room, but the boy was already wrapped up in examining the intricate Ace of Spades design.  
“Alfred, you were so wrapped up in the cards you did not eat.” Matthew noted as he took a seat right by the other boy’s side, his daemon bounding over in the form of a long black weasel. Lysimanche looked down at Ottium, eyeing him only briefly before turning her attention back to the cards.  
“Yeah, I know. You are welcome.”  
“Welcome for?...”  
“Letting you eat all the food.” Matthew made a face at this. He hadn’t exactly meant to eat it all but Alfred hadn’t been eating and the younger boy had been usually hungry. While Alfred casually shuffled the cards again, he looked up at Matthew and squinted slightly. Matthew squinted back without thinking and managed to draw a small smile from Alfred in doing so before the older boy looked back down.  
“I was not hungry anyways, Matthew. I’ll be fine. If I get hungry we can just… Well, I don’t know. Do something I guess.” This didn’t seem to be an answer that pleased the younger boy very much but he let it lie, moving to rest his elbow on the table as Ottium curled up around his neck silently.  
“Hey, you know how to use these things do you not?” Matthew nodded before holding a hand out for Alfred to set the cards in his palm, tuning back in to listen to the storm. It sounded as if it might be letting up which spelt good news for everybody within several miles. Summer storms really were some of the worst ones. Alfred gave Matthew the cards after brief hesitation and watched him carefully. Carefully enough that it made Matthew’s skin tingle slightly from how concentrated Alfred seemed. Where had he seen that look before? Pushing that thought out of his head, the younger blond pulled his hair back before letting it fall around his shoulders again. The cards had been shuffled plenty of times by now; he didn’t take the time to shuffle them again. Dealing out seven cards to Alfred and giving himself seven cards, Matthew slapped the rest of the deck down before picking his cards up.  
“Do you know how to play Go Fish?”  
“Gold fish?”  
“No, Go Fish.” This time Matthew enunciated the word properly rather than saying it with the usual slur that he had heard all of the other hand servants say it with. Alfred’s brow pulled together as a frown threatened to tug down the corners of his lips. Matthew could take it that, no, Alfred did not know how to play Go Fish.  
“It is easy. You just have to make sure nobody sees your cards while you are playing and then you ask the other player, or players, if they have a certain card. When you get all four of the same card you put them down. Whoever has the most sets by the end of the game wins.” Alfred nodded as Matthew spoke. That sounded simple enough.  
“And then if the person you ask does not have the cards you want you have to draw from the deck—Go fish.”  
“So… It’s as if you are fishing around for the cards in the deck?” Matthew blinked at Alfred blankly before smiling and giggling lightly. He hadn’t thought about it like that but now that Alfred mentioned it, it did make a little more sense.  
“Yeah, I would think so.” Alfred nodded, pleased with himself at this revelation being his doing, and looked over his cards. Matthew watched him do so, head inclined minutely before he looked back to his own cards. There was a long stretch of silence as the two contemplated over their hands before finally Alfred spoke, voice only hesitant slightly.  
“Do you have a threes card?” A three of diamonds sat rather clearly in Matthew’s hand and with a small puff of air through his nose, Matthew handed the card over only to watch as Alfred pulled three more cards from his deck and set out the threes suit on the table neatly. What a lucky stroke. The younger boy couldn’t even think of something to say in response to Alfred have the full set of threes in his hand the first go. A pretty hard stroke of luck, he could say.  
“Since you got a card from me you get to go again. Okay?” Alfred nodded to show he understood and looked over his cards carefully once more, taking his time on decided which one he should pick. If there were around thirty-six cards in the deck and there were four of each to a suit… The probability would likely be leaning in his favor if he’d already gotten all four threes, or so he could assume. Probability and chance were fickle things and luck was hard to come by.  
“How about a sevens card?” Matthew’s mouth puckered as he handed over two sevens and waited for Alfred to take his next turn. This must’ve been a bad card dealing if Alfred had the same cards as Matthew did. With three sevens secured in his hand, Alfred could only assume the last one was stuck somewhere in the deck. That would pose some problems.  
“Can I pass?”  
“If you want to.” Without a beat of pause, Matthew went to asking for his own cards.  
“Do you have any jacks?” Alfred paused and looked at his cards. Jacks. That would be a face card wouldn’t it? He had one, just one. A Jack of… of a suit that Alfred didn’t know what to call. Plucking it out of his hand, Alfred handed it over to Matthew who looked pleased that he’d gotten his own turn after losing three cards to Alfred.  
“Alright, how about fives?”  
“Go… Go fish?” The situation only tipped further and further into Alfred’s favor. Oh well, it wasn’t like they were playing poker or blackjack. It was simply a friendly game of Go Fish. Matthew did huff slightly even knowing this and reached for the deck to draw a card.  
“Your turn.” The two boys continued playing back and forth and in this span Alfred managed to get a streak of bad luck that enabled Matthew to get ahead of him. They both ended up playing two rounds of the game where Alfred won once and Matthew the next time. Lysimanche drifted in and out of half and full consciousness most of the time, making Alfred’s eyelids flutter. Ottium on the other hand merely sat quietly on Matthew’s bed, alert but silent other than the occasional comment to the younger blond on which cards to ask for. After showing Alfred quickly how to stack the cards into a house, Matthew gave in and suggested that Alfred go back to sleep. The older boy was dozing off despite trying his hardest to stay awake; the frustrated twittering from Lysimanche as she tried to slumber only to be pulled back to wakefulness by Alfred was enough to prove how tired the older boy was despite his best efforts to tell Matthew he wasn’t. The card games and play had lasted them almost a good hour.  
After a bit of chiding and insistence, Matthew managed to convince Alfred to go back to bed under the terms that he got to sleep in Matthew’s bed. This was under the claim that Matthew’s blanket was nicer than his. Matthew hardly believed it but didn’t say anything to Alfred on it. Usually Alfred ended up sleeping in his bed anyways so there wasn’t anything too strange. He’d probably end up moving back to his own bed, as was his custom to randomly change where he was sleeping. This left Matthew to his own devices as he watched Alfred hunker down to go to sleep.  
It was a long while that Alfred slept, even if he slept fitfully for some time before finally relaxing into a deep and graciously dreamless slumber. Matthew alternated between playing a game of Solitaire on his own and watching Alfred whenever he would stir. Ottium had crept to Matthew’s side and was resting over the boy’s feet in the form of a long and thick lizard, eyes closed contently and tongue peeking out of his reptilian mouth ever so slightly. Matthew eventually grew bored of this and pondered over other things to do. Ever since April Matthew had grown rather accustomed to Alfred and being active all the time. It was different than his chore which had still normally left him with plenty of alone time; now that he had this sudden length of time to himself he was at a bit of a loss of what to do. Only thinking on the issue for several seconds, Matthew was quick to draw a solution. Reading would do him good.  
Nudging Ottium off of his feet gently Matthew slipped from his chair and tucked some of his hair back behind his ear. The other day, Mikyla had noted that his hair was far too long for his current age and that she would trim it for him when she got the time. He admitted sometimes it got to be a pain but otherwise he enjoyed his hair being long. He’d learned how to braid it and had even learned how to put it up in an improper bun. The young boy hadn’t shown these tricks to Alfred but if he got his hair trimmed before he got to then the older blond might never see it. Or so that was how Matthew saw it. Perhaps he should consider that his hair would grow back out eventually.  
Silently dropping to his knees and then to his hands, Matthew stuck a hand under his bed and fished around under it for several beats before his wander fingers brushed against what he had been looking for. Finger pads brushing against soft tight cloth Matthew tugged a small blue bound book out from the dark space of his bed with a small smile tugging the corners of his lips up tightly. Admittedly he had kept this particular book for a long time now, but he was still far from done with reading it. Standing back up and glancing up, Matthew stood stalk still for several moments. He almost dropped his book but as instinct would have it go his grip only tightened on the little poetry novella. Blinking rapidly, the boy took a deep shuddering breath and tried to calm himself down. No, that had been a trick of the mind. Nobody else was in the room. Nobody but him and Alfred and Lysimanche and Ottium; the still reptilian daemon had been startled out of passiveness, a bright orange crest flaring out from around his neck as he hissed.  
As to what Matthew had seen, or thought he’d seen, the answer was odd. There had been someone or perhaps something standing at the side of his bed opposite of him. All he had managed to see was a wide gaping smile of white straight edge teeth and eyes. Eyes the color of gold when the light reflects off of it. Staring directly at the spot where he had seen the anomaly, Matthew was faced with nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t anything there. Ottium was quick to change out of his reptilian form, unsettled and still weary and on alert. Instead, the daemon took the shape of a rather fearsome looking bear with shaggy brown fur. Matthew was quick to retreat to his daemon, silently burrowing his way into Ottium’s fur as he clutched tightly to his book.  
It wasn’t often that Matthew found himself afraid, but normally his fear was brought on by bad dreams or over thinking bad thoughts, not thinking he saw something staring and grinning at him in his own room. He could only hope that he really had simply imagined it and that whatever it was, if it really was there, that it had gone away. Far, far, far away.  
It was a while until Matthew felt brave enough to finally lift his face from where it had been hidden in Ottium’s brown fur. Peering around the room to make sure he wouldn’t find anything staring back, watching him, Matthew swallowed hard and sat up. Ottium grumbled lowly in his chest and swung his head to and fro as well just to double check in case Matthew missed anything. When Matthew’s eyes finally stopped flitting about the room nervously they fell on the book he had originally retrieved. Right, right. He had meant to read it, hadn’t he. A bit of color returning to his face, Matthew sighed heavily and turned around so he could lean back into his daemon.  
Opening the book silently the young boy glanced up at Alfred again to see him wiggling in his sleep minutely and noting this Matthew promptly looked back down and flipped to a random page in the blue bound collection of poems. When Ottium growled Matthew could feel it rumble against his back, making his own chest quiver, and he didn’t dare to look up for fear of what he might find staring back. He didn’t desire to know what Ottium was growling at, but eventually the daemon’s rumbling stopped and Matthew relaxed if only slightly as he finally was able to concentrate on the words before him.  
The poem on this page was short, sweet, simple. It only took up a couple of lines and the words were written cleanly and crisply with a dark blue ink in a pretty curving cursive that was pleasing to the eyes but did not strain the mind. It had no title to it, but Matthew didn’t mind that too much. He liked coming up with titles for the poems that lacked them. Looking over the words a couple of times, the young boy moved his lips wordlessly as if just trying out how it might feel to say the snippet aloud. 

Muse of Taint, of strife, of fright  
Pray you not abruptly take flight  
Muse of Passion, of love and heart rashes  
Do not alight in such rude awful fashions  
Muse of mine, and mine you are, wander not far you fickle thing!  
Return to here, my pen you shall steer, and leave not a single page clear. 

It was a nice one, Matthew would like to say. It flowed fairly pleasantly with a good rhythm to it, not exactly a song but with a sing-song quality. How any good poem should go. There were a variety of poems such as this within the book, as if the author of it had trouble reigning in their aforementioned fickle muse to settle on one thing for too long. The occasional longer poem sat nestled in between the pages. There was a particular one that Matthew really liked, one that was only about half a page. It was a love poem, or so Matthew could have assumed it was, and thinking on it the boy flipped effortlessly to the page where it rested. The corner of the page had dog ear scars from when Matthew had first marked it off. 

Not an angel above could you be nor not a devil below could you posses but such a creature as you only human could be and this alone is what’s attracting  
You need not wings. Not tails, not horns or halos  
Not lyres, not pitchforks, not togas or loincloths  
to be such a taboo mysterious thing one covets and pines on and wishes was there  
As the wise have said that love is blind and crazy some say She, with swollen hearts I might reply that this is true you see  
No worse could She do than to bring together you and I and as reality so cruel would have it all I may do is cry  
In sorrow one could squander away precious moments had with a dreaming glance and Fate’s missed chance  
We’ll meet again and again like lovers locked surely do when the twist of change plays the fault hand  
Dare I say my affections swing such ways when I crave a simple smile  
a touch would suffice when my chest meets the vice and my soul over-pours with love as once said but never repeated for fear it fades away  
like such young things do in the end  
Should my memory of you pass away like love once held tight  
I will say now with all my heart and all might  
Great love for you I hold so true and tear will eventually dry  
To the pass of time, to History, my affections never die.

Finishing the last line for what could quite possibly had been the hundredth time since the boy had taken the book from the Grand Scholar’s Library, Matthew sighed through his nose and reread it just for his own pleasure. It was then that Alfred suddenly jolted, sitting up straight with a heave of breath and a wild look on his face. Ottium snarled at something before going stiff and silent; Lysimanche squealed and took wing from where she had been resting with Alfred on the bed in the form of a small pup. Something caught on her tail feathers and Matthew sat in shock watching them rip from her skin and stay still in mid air before fluttering to the floor slowly. Jumping to his feet, Matthew went to rush to Alfred’s side at the bed only to end up meeting Alfred halfway as the older boy ran to him in turn. The two collided roughly and fell backwards with cries of pain.  
“Crap!” Alfred scrambled back to his feet, eyes bleary and unfocused still with the sleep he had been jarred from. Matthew took longer to recover and get to his feet, obviously not pleased with what had just happened. Rubbing his rear end with a wince, the younger boy looked around trying to find out where the threat was. What was going on? What had Lysimanche been trying to get away from and where was the bird daemon now? A weak wooing noise from behind the wardrobe was what gave it away and Alfred was retrieving his daemon in no time, pushing the wardrobe away from the wall with almost frightening ease.  
“Lysimanche, Lysi—Oh God…” Matthew watched this transpire as Lysimanche fluttered down to Alfred’s chest in the form of a mourning dove, quickly changing into a small monkey and chattering meekly as she hung to Alfred’s neck. Ottium let out a short chirping sound as well, pacing the floor and swinging his head to and fro; he had gone over and investigated the torn out tail feathers, obviously concerned about it.  
“Alfred?... Alfred, what happened?” Alfred’s face was mostly bleached of color; a splash of alarming pink had settled on the apples of his cheeks and on his lips while he took deep shaken breaths, eyes watering and shoulders squared off. Matthew tentatively tried again, head tilted minutely as he took a hesitant step towards Alfred. Almost automatically Alfred’s watering eyes overflowed and sent streaks down his cheeks. Matthew recoiled from pure shock, never having seen Alfred cry before. It was unreal, actually. Even Lysimanche’s back was heaving with mirrored sobs as Alfred looked down from Matthew’s gaze and then abruptly turned away.  
“Alfred…”  
“Stop looking at me.” Unsure of what to do, and not wanting to upset Alfred any further, Matthew backed off and gave the older boy space. He honestly had no idea what had just transpired. Did it have anything to do with that thing Matthew had thought he’d seen? Hadn’t Alfred been having bad dreams? Maybe it was just because of a really bad nightmare. Whatever it was, Matthew felt helpless and confused not being able to do anything for Alfred—especially since the boy had already made a clear verbal boundary between the two of them. Ottium nudged Matthew’s shoulder with his snout and grumbled from somewhere in his throat, eyeing Alfred’s back as the older blond cried quietly.  
“Alfred--” Alfred didn’t answer at first but when he turned back around his face was twisted in anger, an expression that Matthew had rarely been on the receiving end of before. Ottium gave a low growl but shrunk to the form of a dog in fear, hackles raised and ears laid back. Lysimanche didn’t raise her head. Matthew could see Alfred’s tongue working in his mouth, as if he were building up the venom he planned to spit at the younger boy. Taking a step away, Matthew averted his line of vision to avoid eye contact with Alfred and heard the boy take an inhale of breath as if he were getting ready to speak.  
“Don’t tell anybody you saw this. Got it?” Looking up, face drawn tight with confusion, Matthew met eyes with Alfred to find the usual cheery glitter of his blue gaze replaced with a stone cold glint. It was as if the summer skies had suddenly turned cold and frosted with a surprising gust of winter, and it made Matthew shiver just looking at it.  
“If you tell anyone I’ll… I’ll…”  
“What?”  
“I’ll do something! Okay?” Alfred suddenly raising his voice made a grimace smear itself across Matthew’s delicate features as he narrowed his eyes and felt the growl that Ottium released vibrate in his own chest dangerously. The words rumbled from Ottium’s muzzle as they dribbled off Matthew’s tongue, delivered in an eerie unison.  
“Is that a threat?” Alfred seemed to be shaken by this, but his gaze was trained on something behind Matthew as he froze up; tears started to well in the corners of the blond’s eyes again. Clenching his eyes shut tightly and screwing his face up, Alfred let out a moan of fright and hugged Lysimanche so tightly to his chest he hurt himself by doing so.  
“Oh no, no, no. I’m not dreaming, I can’t be dreaming. Go away!” Even Ottium’s anger dissipated when Alfred whined out in fright, concern and mirrored fear gripping the younger Bonnefoy child instead. Taking several quick steps forward Matthew halted and hesitated, Ottium accidentally forgetting to stop and butting into the back of the child’s legs. The daemons grumbling fell to unhearing ears as Matthew watched Alfred blink his bleary eyes back open, gaze glazed and wild. Matthew didn’t give the older boy another chance to say anything, he merely stepped forward and closed the distance between the two of them. Lysimanche was quick to scramble up over Alfred’s shoulder and onto his back away from the threat of Matthew’s touch, leaving the still teary eyed child’s arms open to wrap around Matthew in a crushing hug.  
Matthew did not say anything about how tight Alfred was clutching to him, nor did he hold what Alfred had just previously said to him against him. He really had no reason to. He could clearly tell that Alfred was afraid, and that alone made Matthew give Alfred a free pass on his actions. People did things they wouldn’t usually do when they were mad or sad and especially when they were scared.  
“Alfred, you’re okay. You are not dreaming…”  
“I swore he was right there—He was. I…”  
“Alfred? Do you want to go somewhere else?” Maybe Alfred was just getting stir crazy. Matthew had heard Mikyla talk about people who were stuck in one room for too long started to go a bit wild, lose their sense she had said. Tucker and Riley had called it cabin fever, saying that it usually happened during the winter. Whatever it was, getting out of the room would be nice.  
“Please.” Pulling out of the hug, Matthew let Alfred take his hand and turned to leave the room. He didn’t know where they would go, but if it meant that they would be away from whatever negativity that was currently haunting the room it didn’t matter. Exiting the room and walking down the hall was the easy part, Matthew kept his gaze on the ground going underneath his feet while Alfred stared straight ahead. Once they had reached the main hall of the building the boys found themselves at a loss of where to go from there. The storm was still raging fiercely outside the windows and doors, and Lord knew if they went meandering around the college they would end up in deep trouble. What was there left to do?  
Alfred released Matthew hand at this point and started to pace back and forth, something he did very rarely but a definite sign that the older boy was trying to concoct up a scheme of some sort to avoid going back to the room. While the two were in the middle of thinking the front door of the college was suddenly opened, abruptly at that, as someone rushed in to take shelter from the storm. At first, Alfred and Matthew had mind to run for it before a couple of curse words escaped the mouth of the stranger and thus revealed their identity.  
“Sampson?” Alfred seemed more shocked than Matthew at this, watching as Sampson jumped in alarm and turned around to face the two boys. His hair was soaked, clinging to his forehead and cheeks, and his coat dribbled drops of water quickly onto the.  
“Fred—What in blue blazes, lad? Don’t you think following me is a little much?”  
“I wasn’t following you!... I just wanted to get out of the room. I… I’m bored again.” This was an obvious lie and it was frankly easily spotted given the smile that had forcibly stretched itself on Alfred’s face. Sampson’s eyebrows were raised as he frowned but he said nothing as he shed his coat and slung it over his shoulder as he shook his head.  
“You cannot already be bored, Freddy—honestly! Look at that smile of yours,... Matthew Bonnefoy, is this the truth? Swear on the Lord’s honor?” Matthew paused, not entirely sure of how to respond to this. The Lord’s honor? He could guess that this was of severe nature taken in casual tone. He was quick to answer, not bothering to pause and think about it; that would have given away the lie.  
“Yes, Mister Sampson. On the Lord’s honor.” The words felt strange and foreign on Matthew’s tongue, as if they didn’t belong there. Alfred cast him a slightly startled look, as if he were shocked about something. Although Matthew didn’t realize it he had just told a lie under God’s name, a crime to most folks. Inexcusable and irrevocable. Sampson did not catch Alfred’s look and accepted what Matthew had said. He had no reason to think that Matthew was lying, especially since the boy had sworn on God.  
“Ai. You two… Fine, don’t stand there just gawking at me, would you? Fred, if you planned on tagging the tail of my coat you’re in for a bitter treat. I’m heading right on to Arthur. He’s fidgety as ever with plans being cancelled due to the storm. In a real sour mood, so if you’re coming with me you best prepare yourself.” Alfred hesitated at this, weighing his options as he watched Sampson remove his water logged coat to reveal much drier clothing beneath. Wander aimlessly in the front hall and risk some crotchety scholar catching and punishing him and Matthew for no reason or face an equally crotchety uncle? Matthew in the meantime was thinking about what Francis has told him not but a night or so ago. To stay away from Arthur. But if he didn’t go with Alfred then where would he go? Goodness knows he didn’t desire to go back to the room. No, no. He had a faint idea of where Francis might be but he didn’t wish to bother his… whatever Francis was. Again the question popped up. It had started to agitate Matthew ever since Sampson brought it up. What was Francis to him?  
“Okay… I’ll go with you. I can handle him. Matthew?” Thinking his choices over, Matthew looked to Alfred and nodded, already knowing what he was going to ask. The older boy nodded right back and then turned back to Sampson.  
“Let’s go. By the way, what were you doing out there in that rain?” As the trio started to walk, Sampson continued trying to ring his coat out to the best of his ability. Lip pursed together in a straight line, Matthew noted that the man seemed less approachable when he wasn’t smiling. His dark eyebrows naturally sat lower, making him appear rather severe.  
“That would be my business, Fred, don’t you think?” Alfred wasn’t pleased with this answer and took a larger step, catching up with Sampson and sticking at his side. Matthew was forced to borderline jog to keep up with the two older fellows, Ottium clipping along at his heels. Adelaide bounced anxiously around the three of them in a circle and Lysimanche was settled rather by Alfred’s neck in the form of a sparrow.  
“What were you doing? I want to know, so tell me.”  
“No can do, I’m afraid lad.” Matthew looked back at Ottium as Alfred and Sampson continued their back and forth. His daemon was already looking up at him, ears drawn to attention and eyes bright. Matthew held Ottium’s gaze for several beats of comforting synchronization before looking back ahead of himself. They were turning a corner. It appears Sampson was going back to the lodging quarters. To his room or not, Matthew did not know. Alfred and Sampson were still talking even when Matthew stopped, something having caught his eye. Staring rather intently at a patch of thin air the child’s eyes narrowed slowly before Ottium nudged the back of his legs and he went rushing after Alfred and Sampson.  
The two had already passed around the corner and when Matthew arrived Sampson was rapping his knuckles politely against Arthur’s door.  
“Sir? Sir are you in?” Alfred was tapping his toe in tight up and down motions and standing closely by Sampson’s side, blue eyes jerkily looking around in a fashion that did quite remind Matthew of a bird. He appeared to be looking out for something, acting skittish and jumpy. The older blond reacted quickly and almost proactively when Sampson moved and accidentally bumped him with his elbow. Matthew partially understood why. He must have been so tired that he was seeing things, which could explain why he had seemed to be frightened about seeing something in the room. What had he said? Ottium’s voice provided a gentle reminder to the answer of the inquiry. ‘You cannot be here. I am not dreaming’. Something along those lines… A shiver of pity wiggled down Matthew’s spine as he turned to watch Alfred and Sampson start off back down the hallways.  
“He’s not here… That man… I know exactly where he has gone off to… Damn it, Arthur—Do mind not to use that word, you two. Very grown up word.” Matthew’s eyebrows went up at this, but Alfred seemed to only come to at the sound of Sampson’s voice as if he had just walking on autopilot.  
“What word?...”  
“Nothing, Fred.” Sampson cast his gaze back to Matthew who tilted his head in questioning. Sampson then turned away again. The two boys followed the man farther into the college, to a part they had not yet been in. There were many lecture halls and board rooms, many of which were currently being used. Alfred was looking around at them with dulled interest, his curiosity only sparked slightly by the prospect of being in this unexplored section of the college. Sampson made haste with a brisk pace to go checking door after pressing his ear to them. He lingered on one in specific which allowed Matthew and Alfred to catch up with him right before he opened it wide.  
“Sir—“ Matthew peeked in from behind Alfred and under Sampson’s arm to see a real mind flip of a scene. Arthur Kirkland was standing there in the middle of the room with the lecture table turned on its side and pushed against a wall. What had once been an ancient sword hanging on the wall for décor was now being held tightly in a sure grip, blade raised and poised to strike an invisible opponent. Arthur craned his neck, eyeing Sampson from over his shoulder and some kind of harsh smile cracked over his face.  
“Oh, there you are Sampson. You brought the boy along, did you? Excellent timing. Come here, Alfred.” Alfred didn’t come at first and for once Sampson wasn’t trying to nudge him into doing so. The look on Sampson’s face was a mixture of confusion, fear, and exasperation. He knew for a fact Arthur was sure to go wandering off to occupy himself. The man valued free time but he could have so much of it before he went to try and find work to do. It was just in his nature. This, on the other hand, was not entirely expected. How had he even gotten up there to retrieve the weaponry? When the elder man cleared his throat, Sampson gently tapped Alfred on the back and led him forward, leaving Matthew to shyly shelter himself behind Sampson.  
“Come on then. It would do you best not to dwaddle. Move, boy.” Alfred did as instructed, closing the distance between himself and his uncle with longer strides. Arthur then promptly grabbed Alfred by the wrist, surprising the boy and causing his daemon to leap from her hiding spot in his clothes. Voxilamort, who had been resting farther back in the room by the table, watched curiously as Lysimanche went from a yellow canary to a crow and then finally to an eagle-owl. Sampson rushed forward at this point and Matthew followed closely behind him.  
“Sir! I really don’t think it would be wise to—Sir, these are decorations. I know full what you intend to do, sir. I strongly advise against it.” Arthur was already going to pick up another sword from the pile he had seemingly accumulated on the ground and Sampson moved closer, brow drawn together and a frown in place. When Arthur swung back around he brought the sword with him and gave every other occupant in the room a right scare as the blade of the sword nearly connected with Sampson’s neck. The brunet’s reflexes were surely what saved him a close encounter with Death. Again. Hand sitting over his scarred throat, Sampson blanched and swallowed hard.  
“Arthur, I do beg your pardon-- M’lord, but I quite like my neck.” Arthur’s eyebrows had risen up in his own shock as he stared at Sampson, swinging the sword a bit more carefully and then driving the point into the wooden floorboards.  
“I apologize, Sampson… But before we do anything, who might that be hiding behind you?” Matthew jolted slightly with alarm before quickly looking back behind him. When had Arthur’s daemon gotten up? Voxilamort stared at Matthew and Ottium with dull curiosity, as if she were trying to make sense of something.  
“It’s the young mister, Matthew B—“  
“Bonaparte.” That was the first last name that Matthew could blurt out before Sampson finished saying ‘Bonnefoy’. The man stepped away from Matthew and turned to look at him in confusion. Adelaide caught on first and looked up at Sampson with her ears pushed back, and when the two caught each other’s eyes they nodded in unison.  
“Matthew Bonaparte…” Arthur repeated this, seeming duly impressed by the last name. Matthew swallowed dryly and nodded slowly to the older man, gaze still resting on Sampson before it shifted to Arthur.  
“Kitchen boy… Not bad.” Arthur turned away from Matthew and tugged a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his shirt. Lifting the sword he started to clean it absently, silence falling over the five of them as daemons looked around in different stages of bristle and gawk. Sampson sat silently watching Arthur before speaking to him again, moving closer with no hesitance. Almost as if Arthur had not nearly taken his head off. Alfred finally stepped in to stand at Matthew’s side, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched Sampson and Arthur interacting. Voxilamort was still staring at Matthew and Ottium and in the blink of an eye Lysimanche had fallen from Alfred’s shoulder and zipped at the canine daringly. She was quick to move out of the way of the other daemon’s talons. An unpleasant snarl crossed her face before she loped away to Arthur’s side. Matthew and Ottium both heaved a sigh of relief. The uncanny gaze of Voxilamort was unsettling to say the least. Almost as if she had known he was lying.  
“So…. Bonaparte?” Even if Alfred had only been whispering to him, Matthew still shushed him. Be damned if Alfred blew the lie wide open with his crappy whispering. Lips puckering in insult at the shushing, Alfred moved a bit closer and leaned down slightly to get more on level with Matthew. But Matthew was not paying attention. He was watching Arthur and Sampson. The eldest of the two men was certainly plotting something up judging by the slightly panicked expression creeping on Sampson’s face. When Arthur called for Alfred again, the true intentions were made clear.  
“Alfred! Come here!”  
“Sir, please, I really don’t think this is a very good idea! He’s just turned twelve, sir, honest to the good Lord! You should be using fencing swords, not—“  
“Nonsense, Sampson. This is just how I learned.”  
“My Lord, how you learned— you have told me plenty of times about how your brothers beat you quite silly with metal rods! That is no metal rod!” Matthew’s jaw dropped in unison with Alfred’s as the two boys daemons puffed up in alarm. What? Arthur was planning to try and teach Alfred to sword fight? On one hand, this was a rather exciting thing but on the other… This was a sword. If Sampson was fretting over this, obviously something about this didn’t add up.  
“Sharp metal rods, Sampson. I see no difference.” A groan of frustration rattled from Sampson as he ran a hand through his hair and bowed his head. Adelaide was muttering something to Voxilamort as she shook her head to and fro. It seemed Sampson was getting no leeway in trying to convince Arthur of anything. And once more he called to Alfred.  
“Boy, I don’t have all blasted day. Pick your poison and drink it too, would you.” The saying confused Alfred as he stayed stalk still at Matthew’s side. Both of them were unsure of what was happening so neither of them had any room to really speak. The younger boy pieced what Arthur had said and realized he was telling Alfred to get a move on and pick his weapon of choice. Well. Uh oh.  
“Alfred?...” This was Lysimanche speaking now, beak clacking together in worry as she eyed her counterpart hesitantly. Alfred met her gaze and swallowed thickly, still not moving. After several seconds of contemplation, the older child finally got to moving along. Eyes narrowed at the pile of weapons sitting on the floor, Alfred wrung at his wrists and kept licking his lip due to his nerves.  
“Arthur… If I cannot convince you to not do this, I fear I might weep.” This was the last thing Sampson could think to say to Arthur as the man tugged his broad bladed sword’s tip free from the floorboards and hefted it up. Voxilamort gave him some kind of apologetic look but Arthur did not meet the brunet’s gaze nor did he verbally answer him. Accepting this defeat, Sampson stepped off and returned back near Matthew. If this went as bad as he thought it would, he would either need to react quickly or get the Bonnefoy child as far away from the scene as possible. Sampson truly did hope and pray that Arthur didn’t accidentally do something foolish.  
Alfred was slow to pick up the sword. It was much too heavy, something a grown man might grunt about having to lift, and he had to wrap both hands on the hilt to even keep it upright. Arthur didn’t seem bothered by this at all and instead slowly circled around the younger Kirkland with his green eyes narrowed and his daemon eyeing Alfred’s own. Once the boy managed to get the tip of the sword somewhere level with his own chest, Arthur was quick to swoop in and easily push the sword back down with a swing of his own blade. Matthew gasped in shock as Arthur slapped the flat of his blade into Alfred’s side.  
“Ouch!?” Alfred cried out in a mixture of pain and confusion, sword clattering out of his hands as he went to clutch his side. Sampson winced visibly and Adelaide bristled at his side. Lysimanche crowed at Arthur threateningly as the man stepped away from Alfred with a displeased look.  
“You see your mistake, don’t you? Try again.” Alfred bit his lip to muffle his own anger and to keep the stinging tears away from his eyes. That hit had hurt, even if he didn’t want to believe it, and there would likely be an angry red swell where he had been struck. Arthur effortlessly gestured with his sword for Alfred to hurry up and the boy grunted and slowly stooped to pick up the fallen weapon. Sampson opened his mouth to stay something only to close it before bringing his fist to his face, biting his knuckles tightly. Matthew looked between Sampson and Ottium, trying to make sense of what he was watching. Was Arthur really doing this?  
“Lift it properly, boy. It’s a sword not a lance.” This time, instead of smacking the blade down, Arthur used his sword to lift and guide Alfred’s up further. Alfred stubbornly moved his blade away and lost his grip momentarily before fixing himself. This whole two second movement caused the sword to come clashing down against Arthur’s and the man pulled his blade back before thrusting it forward and locking the two swords together. Alfred seemed to panic for a moment as he tried to move away, only succeeding in unlocking the swords and getting another smack to the side of Arthur’s broadsword.  
“Hell—Stop it!” The sword was dropped again and Alfred clutched the newly blossoming bruise that was surely already turning red under his shirt. Sampson took a deep breath and had to steady himself to avoid shouting at Arthur. Matthew took couple seconds to realize he was holding his breath before releasing it and rolling his shoulders to relax them.  
“What was that, boy? Pick up your sword and make me stop.” Sampson shifted, seeming as if he were going to take a step forward to stand up for Alfred, but ended up freezing still. Matthew was close enough to see that the man’s muscles were wound up like the springs of clockwork, jaw tightened, and eyes sharp as the blades currently being treated like the replica wooden play-things the young boy had seen Feliciano and Lovino mess around with. Adelaide’s short white and brown fur was standing on end and the sight of the both of them made Matthew and Ottium bristle in their own regards.  
Alfred’s features twisted up with rage, his face quickly going red and the color seeping to his neck. Matthew swore he’d never seen Alfred this mad. Not ever. Lysimanche fell to the floor in the form of a wild thing, something hardly recognizable but very vaguely canine. Voxilamort, who had been giving chase to the younger daemon, halted abruptly and looked to Arthur for further detailing as to what their plan was. Arthur met her gaze with a mere glance, all attention focused on Alfred now that the boy had lugged the sword up completely. His grip on it was wrong, Matthew concluded. Arthur wasn’t holding his weapon that way at all. Sampson muttered something under his breath that Matthew didn’t catch, and Ottium whined lowly. This didn’t look good at all.  
When Alfred rushed Arthur, everything seemed to speed up. All Matthew could process was the sound of metal clanging and slicking along metal and Arthur’s voice giving off handed and uninterested commentary such as ‘too slow’ or ‘try again’. Sampson had left Matthew’s side at some point but the boy was unsure as to where he had gone. It was then that the world dropped back into focus. Alfred had managed to make it far enough that he had driven Arthur back with sheer brute strength. Although the older Kirkland’s expression had not changed, his eyes seemed to hold some maddened glee in them and his hair, as kept as it had been before, was now messy and sticking up in odd places. A low swing up, full force and aiming to maim, from Alfred was parried away expertly by Arthur who tried to twist the sword from Alfred’s gasp with the momentum upward but even as he was dragging the sword to the side Alfred changed grips and positions and tried to hack the sword’s edge into the man’s side.  
Matthew had to stop and wonder if Alfred even knew what he was doing, for even from this perspective the attacks he was dealing looked gruesome and the young blond feared for Arthur in the slightest. If even one of Alfred’s attacks landed who knew what kind of mess it would make. Surely he would be badly wounded. It was then that Matthew was alerted by Ottium to look only a little farther off to the side. Lysimanche had Voxilamort in quite the blunder. The copper pelted daemon was galloping across the room back and forth with Lysimanche near on her heels, jaws snapping at the canine’s tail savagely. She was trying to catch her, he realized as the two of them took a sharp corner turn and Lysimanche slid and slammed into the wall.  
The sound of a back hitting the wall had Matthew swinging his head to watch Alfred and Arthur again. Alfred had backed his uncle up against the wall and managed to deliver a single blow. Luckily for them all, it was merely the flat of his blade that struck. Disaster would have been the only thing to come from the edge of Alfred’s sword after all. Arthur actually made a noise of surprise at being let alone struck but struck so fiercely. It was then that it happened. Arthur shoved his blade forward and the tip of it caught at the hilt of Alfred’s. With a lift of his own sword’s hilt and twisting push down, Alfred’s weapon was wrenched from his hands and sent to the ground. While Alfred took a step back in shock, eyes wide and focused on the fallen weaponry, Arthur kept moving. His sword was brought back and then thrust forward. Matthew gave a yell of surprise, trying to tell Alfred to watch out.  
The unexpected sound of blade meeting blade almost seemed to echo around the room. It was as if when Matthew blinked Sampson had simply appeared from nowhere. Arthur’s sword went back and the man stumbled into the wall all over again while Alfred stood frozen in disbelief and what Matthew had grown to dislike seeing from him. Fear. Across the room, Adelaide had shoved herself between the two larger daemons and driven them away from one another. Shocked and unsure, Matthew could only stare and watch with his mouth agape. Alfred was the first one to gain their wits about them while Sampson unlocked is sword from Arthur’s with a grimace. The boy stumbled backwards and away, falling down as he did so and sitting on the floor.  
“Well, I think that is quite enough first hand exercises. How about instead, we demonstrate it for him, sir?” Arthur’s breath came in ragged puffs before he took a deep one to steady himself. Running a hand over his hair to smooth it, the eldest man was silent for a measure of time before stepping away from the wall and pacing past Alfred.  
“Agreed-- That wasn’t bad, Alfred. Get up off the floor now.” Matthew had just started to move over to the others when this was said. Looking to Arthur, the youngest of the quartet was only graced with a view of Arthur’s back as Sampson helped Alfred up off the floor, murmuring to him softly. It was most likely he was asking him if he was okay, hurt, if he was going to be alright. After a couple of nods Sampson nodded and chastely pressed his lips to Alfred’s forehead before sending the boy along the way, looking around to see if either Arthur or Matthew had seen. Noting that the younger child had indeed seen the uncannily mother-like display of affection Sampson was quick to look away.  
“Sir.” While the burnet went to talk to Arthur, preparing for the exchange of strokes they had just prior arranged, Alfred wobbled over to meet Matthew half way. Lysimanche had gotten a good couple of nips to her heels from Adelaide and had come skittering to Alfred in the form of a mouse, darting up his pant leg silently. Ottium was unusually quiet.  
“Alfred?...” The older boy was, admittedly, still trying to find his grounds about him. He may have been young but he was no fool when it came down to it. A sword thrust meant being skewered. Skewered like meat on the open fire. He was still trying to process it all but upon Matthew reaching out and gently nudging his arm he found his voice.  
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Matthew didn’t look very convinced on this and stared at Alfred for several seconds in silence, eyes filled with obvious concern. Alfred didn’t seem okay. And the way he had been clutching his sides earlier. Now he was curled in on himself slightly, as if trying to lessen the pain in a subtle manner. It wasn’t very subtle. Alfred seemed to be thinking about his recently acquired injuries as well and went with haste to untuck his shirt, pulling up the fabric to reveal large swells of skin a stunning shade of red. Matthew winced and wondered if maybe Mikyla would be able to do something for it. Alala seemed smart, and all the maids knew tips and tricks on dealing with different things. Like Anne-Marie who knew just about every herb you can use to cure anything from a sore throat to an infected cut. Hopefully she or one of the other maids would know what to do.  
In the background, Sampson and Arthur had begun sparring. Sampson was much more suited, in an obvious way, for this activity than Alfred. One being that he had actual experiences and knew what he was going. This seemed to please Arthur much more than whapping his younger nephew in the sides with a brutal strike of metal, and soon enough the two men were locked in a complicated dance of exchanging strikes and dodging hits. Alfred and Matthew stayed to watch this for a short period of time, interested only vaguely in the way the two older men were moving. Sampson was fluid and quick, meeting Arthur ahead of time with each movement. Whether this came from the brunet’s youth or simply because he was a superior swordsman was unknown to the two children but Arthur was taking Sampson’s quicker more precise movements in stride. After the two had successfully managed to disarm each other at least once, Matthew and Alfred with their daemons in tow both slipped from the room.  
Alfred was keeping an alarming stoic face on for someone who was known to be in pain and Lysimanche didn’t dare give a whimper or whine to betray this act of strength that the older blond was clearly trying to uphold. Matthew kept silent, not wishing to challenge Alfred about it; not from fear of the rage he might evoke from the other boy, no never that. He was simply not intent on stirring trouble by hurting Alfred’s pride. It wasn’t worth it in his eyes. So instead the two quietly kept moving forwards, Alfred more so following Matthew than the other way around. Matthew had every intention to lead Alfred to the other building to try and find something to help with the swelling in his side. Almost anyone would do to help seeing as there was a lot of shared knowledge when it came to injuries. They were after all quite common in that field of working—much more so than with scholars, especially those that had grown up wealthy.  
The process of actually going outside was one of many challenges of the day. The storm has lessened up, but there was no doubt in either boys’ mind that going out into that was potentially hazardous. Pondering their options while staring out the windows adorning either sid1e of the doors, Alfred and Matthew eventually came to a clear conclusion. They just needed to get coats. That would protect them from most of the things coming at them. The wind, the rain, and of course the temperature. With the quick detour to acquire coats putting a damper on their pace and Alfred’s resolve crumbling, by the time the two had managed to get out into the open the rain had lessened even further. The trek over to the other building put even more time on the two boys’ tab and when they finally arrived Alfred’s sides had reached the maximum sting they could have acquired.  
The first person to appear when Matthew and Alfred entered the building, the little bell jingling to announce their arrival, was a young maid perhaps a handful of years older than Alfred. She had rather curly hair that fluffed around her head in a frizzy mane and big sleepy eyes that sparkled with interest upon catching sight of the two boys. She vaguely recognized Matthew, likely having passed by the younger child while doing chores or during dining periods. She trotted over, hands clasped together and a heavy lidded if not curious expression on her face.  
“Excuse me?... Did you need something, sirs?” Matthew nodded quickly and the girls nodded along with him as if a string had started to jerk her head. Slowly breaking herself from the nodded by shaking her head, thus making the nodding motion a circle, the maid looked slowly to Alfred.  
“Can you please get Missus Mikyla?” The girl cocked her head to the side minutely, her half lidded eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she seemed to think about who Matthew was referring to. As she thought her daemon, a little dormouse, peeked his head out from a pocket on her apron. He almost seemed as if he had just woken up and stared blearily at Ottium and Lysimanche before descending back into the girl’s pocket.  
“Miss Mikyla... Yes, yes. I know who that is. Here, come with me. She’s just sat down for tea with the others.” Matthew nudged Alfred gently as he tugged the older boy along after this unnamed girl with the mouse daemon. She didn’t say anything in particular to Matthew or Alfred as she led them along but Matthew could hear her mumbling things in her dreamy voice-- as if she were in some kind of trance almost. She was leading them to the break room, a place that Matthew was well acquainted with. Upon entering the room Matthew noticed that many people he knew were in there already-- Tucker and Riley were seated snugly by one another with mugs in their hands and there lo-n-behold was Anne-Marie. Mikyla was seated by another young lady who was clasping hands with the girl seated next to her on the far side. When the three younger individuals entered they all came to attention, especially upon spotting Matthew and Alfred  
“Boys? What are you doing here?” Mikyla struggled to get up from her seat before the lady next to her gave her a nudge and steadied her. Maximus, who had been lounging near her feet, trotted into view as well with ears perked up.  
“Missus Mikyla, Alfred has two blossoms on his sides. Sword strikes… Do you or any of the others know how to help with the pain and swelling?” The room stirred in confusion at the mention of sword strikes being the cause of injury. That couldn’t be right.  
“Sword strikes? Matthew, did we hear you correct?” This was Riley asking this question, untangling a hand from Admiranda’s mane. Very briefly Matthew wondered how Tucker had gotten his daemon into the room with him. As Mikyla toddled her way over to Alfred and Matthew, Lysimanche burrowed into Alfred’s hair in a unwitting display of shyness in the presence of all the people she honestly had no idea what to do with.  
“Well, I would hope you heard me correct.” The reply was taken with a grain of salt and Mikyla tutted under her breath quietly as she took a firm hold of Alfred’s shoulder; she started to steer him away from Matthew and over to the chaise where Tucker and Riley had been reclining moments earlier, shooing them away to make room for Alfred to sit down so she could inspect his wounds. The boy was incredibly reluctant to untuck his shirt and remove it, trying to insist with great stubbornness and disregard of his current pain that he was fine. It didn’t hurt that bad. Matthew was just exaggerating. Eventually Anne-Marie strut over and, with surprisingly little coaxing, got Alfred’s shirt off of him. Her daemon, Beauregard, was perching on a post not too far away with his tail feathers cascading down in dramatic watchful waves. He seemed to be peering at where Lysimanche was hiding in the form of a small shrew, small black eyes glittering with poorly masked interest.  
“By God—“ Mikyla started with concern at the sight of the bright red welts stark against the otherwise milk white skin of Alfred’s stomach. Matthew had to hold back a small laugh at the tan lines Alfred was sporting. He had hardly noticed them until now; now was not the time to be getting giggly about it. Maybe after he got the verdict that Alfred was going to be alright. While Mikyla and the other maids ended up crowding around Alfred murmuring, Riley and Tucker ended up standing back near Matthew. Looking up at the two men in turn, the boy gave them each a smile. Tucker smiled back kindly to the boy, wagging his thick fingers at Matthew in greeting while Riley merely nodded to the child.  
“Say, Matthew, not to gossip… but how did yonder boy got those afflictions?” This was Riley asking this, stooping down to Matthew’s height by taking a knee next to the much smaller child.  
“Well… Mister Riley, Lord Kirkland tried to teach Alfred how to sword fight. He didn’t do a very good job as a teacher. He hit Alfred a couple of time really hard--”  
“I’d be? The Lord Kirkland? Mind me again what Alfred’s last name it, just so I know I’m not losing my marbles.”  
“It’s Kirkland, Mister Riley.” Riley nodded slowly, mulling this information over as Tucker slowly lowered himself down to his knees by the two as well.  
“Wha’sit?” Admiranda was busy peering over shoulders at Alfred to pay much attention to the other’s conversation and her diverted attentions had distracted Tucker slightly. Eileen was dutifully sitting by the Clydesdale, ears at attention as she listened to Matthew talking.  
“Apparently the Young Master Kirkland over there got his beating from the one and only Lord Kirkland.” Riley muttered this to Tucker, eyebrows arched up and a duly considerate look settled upon his features.  
“Don’t say?”  
“I’d say-- Matthew said so.” Tucker averted his gaze to Matthew now, dark brows pulled together and mouth taunt in a frown. The pale skinned blond nodded solemnly to confirm that yes that was what he had conveyed to Riley. Ottium was busying himself now with pestering Maximus, nipping at the other daemons hindquarters to get his attention.  
“Well, why’d he go’n do that?” Tucker seemed thoroughly confused by this and lowered his gaze, letting the thought stew in his mind while Matthew shook his head.  
“I do not know, Mister Tucker. I really do not know...“ Matthew felt a small pang in his chest at all of this. Arthur really had come across as too good to be true upon Matthew first seeing him. He shouldn’t have had such high expectations for the man. Perhaps it was because he had just seemed so cool. Well, he still was cool. Almost too cool, Matthew remarked to himself. He kept his composure nearly too well with everyone but Francis it seemed. Matthew wondered what the reasoning had been. Why had Arthur chosen to do that? Was he actually aware that he had hurt Alfred?  
Speaking of Alfred, the older blond had just gotten backed off of by the maids. He was now sporting bandaging around his stomach, a slight green tint seeping through the spots where Matthew knew his injuries were. That must’ve been an herbal paste. The maids sure did work quickly. Anne-Marie seemed incredibly proud of her handiwork and took a compliment from the drowsy looking girl who Matthew now figured out was named Julia. Tucker and Riley stood now and patted Matthew on the head in turn as Mikyla helped Alfred back into his shirt and led him back to Matthew.  
“There we go, boys. All good as new. Mind you not to get going on a fencing field any time soon, young man…” At this Mikyla gave Alfred’s shoulder a squeeze and the boy grimaced rather than smiling. Julia seemed to perk up at random, her button nose wiggling almost like her daemon’s might as she sniffed the air. Smiling dreamily she gave a soft laugh and clapped her hands together gently.  
“Lunch time, lunch time!” Everyone in the room but Alfred and Matthew stopped and tilted their heads as if listening for something simultaneously. Seconds later the chime of the clock was heard signaling that it was indeed lunch time. Alfred seemed particularly bewildered by this and looked at Julia as if she had sprouted a third eye; Matthew nodded and accepted the girl’s strangely accurate time prediction. While Julia hooked arms with Anne-Marie and the unnamed maid that had been helping Mikyla and the three exited the room with their daemons following, Alfred tried to tuck his shirt back into his pants.  
“Matthew, won’t you and the Young Master stay for lunch? You came all this way after all. Come, it will be like the old times, hm?” Matthew looked to Mikyla as she started to speak to him. Eyebrows lifted slightly and a vague smile twitching on his lips, the boy couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Missus Mikyla, old times were only a couple months ago.” Mikyla faltered, having been  
in the middle of making way to leave the room, and blinked slowly. Rubbing her  
left wrist with her right hand she looked at Matthew as if suddenly in a daze.  
“Really?...It seems like a lot longer…” Before Matthew could question the sudden strange  
shift in behavior, Mikyla blinked rapidly thrice and shook her head with a soft  
scoff of a laugh.  
“Come along now, boys-- and you two. Tucker, Riley. Lunch won’t wait for us!” Matthew seemed to perk up at the prospect of having meatime with the old group again, and watched with lit up eyes as Riley playfully bowed to Tucker and extended an arm to him as one might with a lady of court. The bigger man theatrically fanned himself and delicately hooked arms with the redhead and the two went along the same path as Mikyla after she had exited the room. Turning to Alfred, the blond’s gleeful smile fell upon seeing the older child’s expression.  
“Alfred, what’s wrong? You seem upset…” Lysimanche peeked at Matthew from her place in Alfred’s hair, beady eyes dull, and once more the Bonnefoy boy realized just how absolutely exhausted Alfred looked. He was developing atrocious dark bags under his eyes and his lids hung lower than usual, acting like blinds over the baby blue of his eyes that had been dampened down to a flat shade of what they normally were. He seemed fairly pale, almost as if he were sick, and as Matthew noted Lysimanche hadn’t been taking on as many daring and bold forms as she was prone to.  
“Huh?... Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just sort of light-headed is all. That stuff they put on my sides really helped with the…”  
“Pain.” Matthew offered this word, helpfully as he saw it, and watched Alfred pull a face. No matter how mellowed he was from lack of sleep Alfred was still Alfred. After simply staring at one another for a measure of time the two children grasped each other’s hands and started off after the flow of people that had congregated in the halls. They were all going one place so it wasn’t too difficult to find the destination in mind. It was more so finding a seat that was the real challenge as anyone would see it.  
The dining hall was spacious with higher ceilings than the rest of the building and long tables lining in rows around the room. At the very back was a door that led to the second kitchen for convenience’s sake. Currently several of the younger bustlers were wheeling out carts of food to the main area, resting one foot on the end of the bus and kicking off the ground with their other, roving the cart like a scooter. In general people were rushing to their usual seats and tables while others laid out tableware, voices mingling together and laughter already starting to trill through the rafters. Matthew had trotted ahead, stringing Alfred along as he hustled over to the table where Mikyla was going to sit down at. It was currently being filled up by other maids as well, the lot of them all different interesting looking women.  
Sitting there at the table was not just Mikyla and the two boys but also Julia and Anne-Marie, an older woman whose name eluded Matthew’s memory currently, a trio of young women who snickered each time they looked at one another for too long and wagged their fingers at Alfred with puckered smiles and batted eyelashes, and at last two maids that Matthew had not caught sight of in some time. Pili and Quincy had taken their seats on the opposite side of the table from Matthew and Alfred along with the middle aged woman and one of the girls of the trio. Automatically upon their arrival the table broke into discussion.  
“Pili, Quince! Lovely of you to join us-- is it too terrible to be away from the great Lord Kirkland to dine with peasants of our stature?” This was said by one of the girls, a woman with pale skin and wavy fair blonde hair. She had a slightly upturned nose and a permanent smile on her face that made her appear like she was up to something. Her daemon, a kind of weasel that took Matthew a moment to register as a mongoose, was perched on her shoulder. Pili was the one to answer her, giving a mocking smile and laughing to herself blandly.  
“Oh, it’s awful torture! You’da not believed it, Galina.” Now revealed to be named Galina, the young woman only shook her head and laughed harder at the other two maids. Anne-Marie nudged her under the table and tutted her tongue while Julia seemed to come to, just realizing that Pili and Quincy had arrived and waved at them with her usual dopey smile.  
“He’s had me done running ragged, you all, I swear. Maid do this, maid do that, maid this, maid that! I have a name you know, siiir.” Pili held the word sir out longest, brown eyes rolling as she patted at her short dark hair. Quincy gave a soft laugh and nudged her shoulder into the darker skinned woman’s with an apologetic smile.  
“It’s just because you’re such an efficient worker, Pili. I nearly dropped a tray of food on him.” Galina proper her elbows on the table now, leaning in to listen to the two talking. Mikyla seemed mostly uninterested and patted Matthew on the shoulder as she got up to fetch one of the cart rollers for food. Alfred didn’t noticed the woman leaving as he was quite blankly staring directly at Quincy, seemingly confused, and Matthew caught him staring.  
“Besides, all Lord Kirkland does is stare at me. It’s very unsettling…” Quincy added this now, reaching up to rub the back of her head. The white skinned miss had short mousy brown hair and big doe like brown eyes. She had much more defined cheekbones and jaw line than the rest of the maids at that and her broader shoulders could have been viewed as strange by more narrow minded people. Or by Alfred. Around her neck sat a choker, a deviant from the uniform all the maids were wearing, that was colored pink and blue with a white buckle on the front.  
“It’s only because he probably fancies you, Quincy. He probably already has it all planned out! He’s going to sweep you off your feet and sail off into the sunset to some tropical island somewhere…” Pili’s teasing made Quincy’s face flare bright red and at this point the aging woman that had been sitting silently prior spoke up.  
“Oh, Pili, leave Quincy alone. No need to tease the poor girl.” Adeyemi chattered at the woman nonsensically with a tone like laughter from where he had been hanging off of Pili’s back. Quincy merely pet her daemon and looked down. The girl next to Galina butted into the conversation at this point as well.  
“Esther, you’re just being illogical! I mean, why wouldn’t England’s most eligible bachelor want a pretty face like Quincy’s to be his cute little trophy wife?” Esther scoffed softly, her rat daemon squeaking noisily from where he had been resting against her bun. The girl who had spoken prior grinned at her, her gecko shaped daemon bobbing his head with his mouth open in an equal grin. At this point Alfred leaned down to Matthew’s ear and asked him a question. A question that wasn’t taken very well in hindsight.  
“Matthew?... Why is that guy wearing a dress?” Matthew recoiled away from Alfred with a look of shock plastered across his face. Quincy had an equal look of mortification on her face, as she had been paying close attention due to Alfred’s unsubtle staring, that Pili quickly caught onto. The black woman ended up grasping her arm as her jokes came to a halt automatically.  
“Alfred, Quincy isn’t a boy.” Now the other maids were turning to look at the two children in various stages of questioning or grimacing. Esther kept her eyes on Quincy as the girl proceeded to go green around the gills. Alfred looked from the maids staring at him to Matthew and then down.  
“He… I mean, she… isn’t?” The entire sentence was hesitate as Alfred seemed to be struggling to wrap his head around what Matthew had told him while trying to ignore the silence that had fallen over the table. Esther sighed and said something to Quincy gently before directing her grey gaze to Alfred.  
“Boy, who might you be?” Lysimanche answered for him as Alfred felt his confidence shrink to near nothing. Matthew couldn’t think of what to say now, unsure of how Alfred could have considered Quincy a boy. Quincy was obviously a girl. She was a she after all.  
“Alfred Kirkland, madam. Nephew of the Lord Kirkland.” The daemon’s voice came out as a warble, wobbling unsteadily, and Esther pursed her lips as her daemon slide down the side of her head and onto her shoulder clumsily and whispered into her ear.  
“Well Mister Alfred Kirkland, nephew of the Lord Kirkland. Quincy here is as much a woman as I am. It would do you good not to judge others by their appearances, sir. Now up with all of us. Before all the food is gone. Carmen, Belynda , Galina-- with me. Keep up now.” The four women all got up together. This included the girl with gecko daemon who responded to the name Carmen first and then the woman who had yet to speak whatsoever that Matthew could conclude was Belynda. Her daemon appeared to be an opossum of some kind who had his tail in his mouth.  
“Julia, let’s go. We don’t want to get left behind do we?” This was Anne-Marie speaking, standing up soon after the others had left. Julia took a moment to realize she had been spoken to and looked up at Anne with a loud hum.  
“What?... Oh! Food, yes, food! Let’s go get food.” While the brunette and her darker haired friend got up to go get food it left Matthew and Alfred with Pili and Quincy. Matthew looked at Alfred once more, lips pursed tightly and brow drawn together. Alfred caught him giving this look and shrugged in questioning. Leaning in, the younger boy whispered to Alfred.  
“Apologize to her.” Mikyla was now on her way back to the table balancing three bowls with her as she went and it was best that Alfred got the apology out of the way before Mikyla returned. Matthew waved at Pili to get her attention and the dark skinned woman was quick to alert Quincy to raise her head from her hands. She still upset looking woman met Alfred’s gaze after a little persuasion and held it despite wanting to look away.  
“I’m, uh… I’m… I’m sorry. You’re a really pretty girl.” That was all Alfred could think of to say to Quincy to atone for his previous words. Quincy quietly thanked him for the compliment and accepted his apology before standing and tugging Pili along with her to go get food. Mikyla returned just as they left and set down bowls of thin stew in front of the boys with a smile. Matthew politely thanked her and continued on to eat in silence while Alfred more so played with his food in a twin quietness. The rest of the meal was filled with only absent conversation between Galina, Belynda, and Carmen as their daemons chattered with them. Esther occasionally would input a comment when their conversation got less than appropriate and an occasional warning to quiet down. Otherwise, no one else spoke.  
By the time all else had finished eating, Alfred still had three fourths of his stew left and had nodded off with his elbow on the table three times. So far he had managed to nearly fall asleep more times than Julia, who was also having the usual trouble of keeping her eyes open. The two ended up yawning back and forth, the girl giggling giddily each time she heard Alfred yawn only to end up cut off with a response yawn. At some point Anne-Marie gently pushed Julia’s head down and the girl promptly dozed off near immediately, leaving Alfred to yawn alone.  
Mikyla saw the boys off, doting over Matthew about his hair and coat before finally leaving the boy be and waving goodbye from the doorstep. The younger boy was essentially supporting Alfred at this point, trying to keep the older blond from falling over and passing out on the ground. A sure feat in his mind. Ottium had caught Lysimanche when the poor daemon limply fell from where she had been resting on Alfred and was now carrying her in his maw, silently complaining to Matthew about having to do so. Occasionally Alfred would mutter something, eyelids fluttering as he swayed onto Matthew heavily. From what Matthew could gather from his mumblings Alfred was talking about someone. He didn’t know who it was he was referring to and frankly wasn’t interested. Nudging the boy in the rib, Matthew grunted and tried to steady him on his own two feet. There was no way he was going to get Alfred on the stairs like this. Not on his own.  
“Alfred, hey, wake up. We’re nearly back to the scholar’s building.” His response was whining. Not unsurprising but still unappreciated. Luckily for Matthew, Alfred did open his eyes a little wider and started to support himself. He really did need to sleep. He was essentially sleepwalking as it was. The journey to the room was taken slower and slower as what had happened much earlier that day slowly dawned on Alfred and Matthew’s minds anew. Alfred was considerably more shaken than Matthew was, stopping at one point entirely to fuss at his shoe laces in a not so subtle effort to stall.  
When the two boys were finally faced with the door, they did not dare to touch it. Ottium’s fur was on end at this point and Lysimanche had managed to round about to complete consciousness at some point. It was Matthew who steeled himself in the end and pushed the door open. There was nothing there. Just an empty room the way they had left it. Even if the room didn’t feel unsafe anymore as it had when they’d left it, the two boys were weary to enter. Eventually they found themselves stepping past the threshold, but not without first merely sticking their heads in the room and peering around.  
Alfred went straight for the bed, his own for once, and practically fell face first into the covers. Lysimanche landed near him and quickly changed into a different form, that of a small rodent, and crawled her way into his clothes. He didn’t move after that and for a brief moment Matthew wondered if someone would mistake the older blond as dead upon entering the room. He mused on the idea only briefly before walking up to the book he had long since abandoned on the floor. Picking it up he ran a hand over the cover and turned to go set it on his dresser only to stop still in his tracks. There on the dresser were Lysimanche’s yanked out tail feathers.  
If Matthew hadn’t known any better he might have started to hyperventilate. He was sure those had been left on the floor. He was positive of it. Neither of them had collected the feathers before leaving and surely they hadn’t picked them up and placed them anywhere. So why were they there? Matthew’s mind was racing to find some kind of explanation for it. Ghosts? Maybe a maid? Maybe it was something that lived under one of their beds. Maybe there was a little goblin that lived under Matthew’s bed and read his books. Gulping, having a little trouble swallowing his own saliva, Matthew shook his head and watched Ottium prop his large paws on the dresser and sniff at the feathers. Confirmed-- those were definitely Lysimanche’s.  
A hesitant hand was taken as Matthew picked up the feathers with one hand and set the book down in their place with the other. They were soft. The idea that these had once been attached to a daemon made the sensation of touching them feel… strange. A bit unthinkable. After all, you just didn’t touch other’s daemons. Not unless you were really really special to that person. Matthew knew that. This was about as close as you got without disrupting someone and breaking an unspoken law. With a pause, the young boy looked over at Alfred’s sleeping form before quickly opening the poetry book and stuffing the feathers between the pages. Briefly Matthew caught sight of a sentence fragment: “Avoir le mal de quelqu’un…”  
The book was closed before he could investigate further. Ottium had cocked his head his head to the side, great golden eyes locked on Matthew. They both felt slightly as if they had done something nearly dirty. Wrong, in the simplest words. But before Matthew could let himself do anything else about it he quickly crawled into his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them there. Ottium jumped up with him easily, sitting there statue still. There was still much of this bleary day left; it didn’t matter then. Matthew felt it would be incredibly uneventful. For now he would let his thoughts wander, perhaps try to do some of his studies. He wouldn’t rush Alfred’s sleeping, not now. So, with the creeping tingling sensation of someone watching him suddenly prickling along the back of his neck, Matthew sat. He sat in the utmost silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes-- I took WAY too long to get this chapter published. I changed the name of the chapter itself so many times too... I hope that by the time people read this the title doesn't make me want to rip my hair out. Pray that Chapter Five, Tales of the Travelers, takes less of a toll on me!  
> I'm really REALLY sorry it took so absolutely preposterously long to get this chapter out! Also, for any mistakes made or fumbles of writing quality. There are so many characters and things going on that it gets a bit of a stress. I would like to thank all of you for sticking with me through this.  
> Heads up! On my blog there is now an official Dust to Dust tag.  
> http://aphbelarusvevo.tumblr.com/tagged/dtd


	5. Tales of the Travelers

July 8th was a pleasant day, the sun having risen on a peaceful atmosphere after the storm had given a last gust and then passed. Many found shingles missing and windows broken, shutters ripped back off their hinges to hang loosely in defeat, and more severe cases had chimneys topple and minor flooding. Nothing the residents of Oxford, England were not used to. It had quite the tendency to rain, and the year’s previous good weather had been expected to turn bitter at the most unexpected time. Which would, of course, have made it expected. One upped this time, Mother Nature.  
All aside, none had been quite so rustled with the weather being so sporadic as the traders and travelers of the canal. This was something that Matthew and Alfred found out very quickly, but it was not something to be rushed into. A short recap on the previous day was an essential. Something had transpired that is of the utmost importance-- something that cannot be skipped over, but at least glossed given how significant it was, would be, and will be to not just the people of this tightly and intricately woven tale but you as well. Yes, you, Reader. You’re going to love this one.  
July 7th was an eerily calm day. Too calm to be real. That was what first tipped the two uninformed children off that something was up. The next was when neither heard a peep from Arthur and Sampson, or Francis. The usually bustling scholars did not wander hallways and the few who were caught doing so spoke in quick hushed whispers as they hustled along excitedly. Something was going on and as Alfred saw it he had a right to know. Having finally gotten a night’s rest with not a single peep of a nightmare or dream to be found the boy was already bouncing back to his usual shape. While on one hand this was refreshing, on the other Matthew was now being talked into sneaking around. That really was a horrible idea as he saw it.  
But sneaking is exactly what they did anyways, daemons taking the most inconspicuous forms they could think of and the boys walking shoeless in their socks to lessen the noise of their steps in the now entirely silent halls of the college. That was Matthew’s idea. Speaking of the boy, Matthew’s stomach was in knots the entire time; Alfred seemed to be back to the brash and the bold that he was so well known for. While they did not find out exactly what was going on the information they did gather excited them more than knowing the exact truth.  
The rustling sounds of what sounded like chainmail to Alfred as they passed by a meeting hall was what made them stop. The door was closed firmly shut prohibiting any further snooping, but pressing their ears to the door was enough while their daemons fluttered up to the high narrow window above the door. Sight was restricted due to the opaque and warped nature of the glass but from the sounds of it there were visitors in the college aside from Arthur and his crew of companions.  
There was a lot of chatter going on and a variety of gasps of awe and sounds of fear from within the room accompanied by the same rustling sound and voices so hushed that Matthew and Alfred didn’t even identify the fact that the voices were speaking foreign tongues. A particularly loud clamor was made when a sudden burst of what Lysimanche and Ottium swore had been flames popped into existence from seemingly nowhere. Even with the urge to press their luck, the boys were quick to retreat when the chainmail noise grew dangerously loud-- an indication that the person wearing the garment was right behind the door. It was a good thing they fled so quickly, for the door had slowly been opened by an unseen individual and closed hesitantly when nothing was found.  
Why is this important, you might ask? Oh, trust me, you’ll see why it is important. After all, have I not told you that sometimes the best things are the things we take for granted? The things we pay no mind to? Reader, all will become clear in due time. Let us carry on with the true story. July 8th, as iterated, was a good day to go outside. And so Alfred and Matthew did, escaping the college grounds to the Vargas household for a much overdue visit. They had much to tell Lovino and Feliciano and they were sure that Io wouldn’t mind a pop in visit from them either. It was likely she was wondering where they gone off to anyhow.  
Their arrival was taken as it always was, with casual hellos and swaps of news. Feliciano listened raptly as Alfred explain about what had so far occurred with the arrival of Arthur while Lovino feigned disinterest, even going so far as to the look the other way even though he knew Alfred was now pointedly staring at him. Letiza on the other hand made it clear that she had been paying attention. Lia was the one that appeared to have trouble focusing, likely indicating that a lot of things were on Feliciano’s mind at the moment. Hours had passed before Matthew noted something that had been bugging him slightly since their arrival. The two town boys’ daemons had not since they’d arrived changed forms even once, even with Lysimanche and Ottium doing so while they played around.  
Michelangelo joined the boys eventually, Herakles languidly following the youngest child as he rushed Matthew and hugged the boy’s stomach tightly. Again Matthew had to wonder what exactly had made him this kid’s favorite. Herakles promptly announced that he was going to go out to see his friends which seemed to excite the twins beyond belief as they both started begging to come with him. Alfred merely cocked his head in inquiry and instinctively looked to Matthew for an answer. All he received was a shrug of ignorance. Even Micha seemed aware if at least vaguely of what was happening, unsurprisingly. It perhaps hadn’t dawned on the two college boys that Herakles actually had friends. They had just assumed that he did work around the house, slept, occasionally played with his brothers, and then slept some more.  
In the end the eldest brother begrudgingly agreed to let Feliciano and Lovino come with and by extension Alfred and Matthew. Micha was refused access and with a heartbreakingly saddened look he softly said ‘okay’ and waved good bye to his brothers, telling Matthew to tell ‘Luke’ and ‘Emily’ he said ‘Ciao’. Whoever they were. Matthew supposed he would find out in due time.  
The trip from the Vargas house took the group through an area Matthew and Alfred hadn’t been before and while they were briskly walking along they spotted another group of scruffy looking kids watching them only to recede away when Lovino snarled at them in unison with Letiza. They were apparently impeding upon another territory and better yet, apparently people found Lovino frightening enough that even as a trespasser they didn’t bother him. It was either that or the fact that Letiza had lately taken to occupying a wolfish form and most did not dare to mess with those whose daemons were intimidating. It was a hidden rule.  
At last the boys arrived at their destination to be met by a strange variety of people awaiting them, most of which who greeted the Vargas brothers exuberantly before even realizing that Alfred and Matthew were there. There were four of them in total, each of course with their corresponding daemon which brought the grand number to eight individuals. Truly a full house. Among them were two girls and two boys, one of which was much younger and closer to Matthew’s age. The most notable to look at among them was one of the girls. Alfred and Matthew had never seen anything like her before. They couldn’t help but stare a bit, even if it was actually quite rude.  
“Heyo! Look who it is. Herk, we almost thought’ch you wouldn’t make it. See you brought the munchkins along.” This came from the eldest boy of the group. He held out a hand to Herakles which the other young man grasped tightly as the two of them bumped their shoulders together in some kind of greeting. He had light brown hair that sat just underneath his chin. It was a bit oily and shaggy to boot but coupled with the patches of grime on him and the dismal shape of his clothing it wasn’t very surprising. His daemon was some kind of weasel looking animal that quickly greeted Rhea with a paw bap to the head. The young man had a cheeky face, as if he knew something nobody else did and was incredibly amused by it, and his brown eyes had a rusted color to them that made them look a bit red. Although it was nothing compared to the girl, whom Alfred and Matthew still couldn’t take their eyes off of.  
“To you too, Emi. Hello, Lucian.” The boy, who had to have been this ‘Emi’ guys little brother, waved to Herakles slightly as he hopped up and sat on a crate that appeared to have been dragged there. His daemon caught the town boys completely off guard with her fearsome appearance. She had a wolf’s head but the body of a serpentine creature, a creature that even Matthew couldn’t make sense of. She seemed appeased in this form and did not change even when confronted with Lysimanche curiously hopping over to investigate her.  
“Feliciano, Feliciano!” This came from the strange girl, really more a woman in Alfred and Matthew’s eyes, as she joyously and rather loudly called to the boy who ran over to her with just as much excitement. He jumped at her which was in itself odd to the college boys. Even stranger was that she caught him and easily lifted him up and spun him around. But still none stranger than how she looked.  
She was white. Quite literally white. As if someone had bleached all the color right out of her aside from the questionably vibrant blue of her clothing-- a simple blouse and a skirt of an equally questionable short length-- and the unearthly red of her eyes. If Matthew thought hard enough he recalled that this was something called albinism. Extremely rare and often resulting in a mirade of bad side effects. That was, besides everyone thinking you were devil spawn. It was incredible to see someone who actually had the condition. This particular miss had long hair, of course white, that reached far down her back and closer to her hips. She wore a large grin on her face and with how she narrowed her eyes, she looked rather devious. Devilish, for lack of better words. This didn’t seem to bother anyone else at all. Her daemon, a sturdy and strong looking mountain ram of some sort, seemed to share her condition but was as equally unaffected. He instead was occupied with gently butting a horn against Lia as she bounded around him in her chosen form-- a red pelted fox.  
“Say, who are these two?” The voice came from behind Alfred and Matthew, startling the boys out of their wits as they swung around to face the speaker. It was a third girl, one with sun tanned skin and long curled brown hair that was pulled back in a swinging ponytail. She was wearing mens’ clothing, something mostly unheard of, and had her hands on her hips as she stared down at Alfred and Matthew. Her daemon, a hound of some kind, circled from around her legs and started to sniff at Ottium who backed away slowly with all his fur on end.  
“Andrei, don’t spook the little kitty. Give her some space.” Automatically the woman’s daemon backed away, laughing to himself.  
“These two? A pair of bums we picked up off the side of the road.” At this point, the final girl spoke up.  
“Judgin’ from their dress they sure aren’t bums, Hera. C’mon now. Who are they?” Lovino spoke up at this point, jabbing a thumb in the silent boys direction.  
“These are Matthew and Alfred. They’re my friends. Feliciano’s too I guess. Guys? These are the others. That lady behind you is Elizaveta and her dog Andrei. That dumb guy with the coat in the middle of summer is Emilian and the polecat is Constanta. The kid is Lucian and that weirdo dog snake thing is Ruxandra. The girl with Feliciano is Julchen and her big billy goat is Gilbert and finally the girl back there with the bird is Adenah Ackerman. The mockers’ name is Abrax.” The rundown was taken the best it could be, Alfred picking up some of the names and Matthew the rest. Little waves or brief ‘hello’s were chimed in as each one was introduced, none of them in the least bit insulted with Lovino’s slightly mean words.  
“So… This one is Matthew,” Elizaveta grabbed Matthew by the head as she said his name. “And this one is Alfred.” And with that she grabbed Alfred in turn. Lovino gave a nod to her and she casually ruffled the boy’s hair before releasing them with a smile.  
“Welcome to the slums, boys. Must not be from around these parts. Way too clean.”  
“I don’t know, Liz, some of us just value hygiene.” Herakles input this as he performed an intricate handshake with Julchen. The girl laughed it off, pale green eyes being rolled in good nature, and walked past the two still stunned blonds as she went to take a seat on the crate next to Lucian.  
“Say, Herk, you heard the news right? The piece of work you love so much is back in town with the traders. I always wondered where the jerk went off to.” Emilian called this out to Herakles, leaning back against a wall as he folded his arms over his chest. Herakles immediately reacted, face twisting with doubt as he stared at Emilian with narrowed eyes. There was soft ‘ooo’ing from the girls and Herakles’ younger brothers looked at him with many questions on their tongues.  
“Is that so?... Well, I hope I don’t have the misfortune of running into him. I fear not many of my memories of him are fond.” Adenah quietly trotted her way up to Herakles, a pep in her step, and patted at the taller man’s arm with a sigh as she casually bumped her head against his chest.  
“I saw him, ya know. He’s quite attractive… Ya think he fancies English dames?” Herakles’ expression only twisted more as he patted Adenah on the head and then shoved her away gently with a scoff.  
“Gross, gross, gross. Get better standards, Adenah Ackerman.”  
“Well, Hera, you haven’t seen him have you. It’s true. He’s all grown up. I bet he's not so gangly looking anymore-- as you said he was. I think even Emilian has a liking to him.” Automatically Emilian reacted, a genuinely nasty expression coming on his face as he shot Elizaveta a glare. She was already grinning sharply back at him, eyes narrowed with mean intent. Nobody commented on it whatsoever.  
“I don’t want to see him if you hadn’t guessed. He probably looks worse and you all are just spending too much time inhaling excess fumes from the canal muck.”  
“Herk, you could prove us wrong. Let your little brothers and their friends be the judge! I’m sure they all are absolutely dire to meet your best childhood buddy.” Feliciano eyed Julchen as she said this before looking back to his older brother. Lovino had a skeptical look on his face, brows drawn together and lips pulled taunt. Herakles could tell that his friends were merely trying to get him to see this unnamed man because they knew the guy infuriated him to a degree. It wasn’t a lie that they had, as children, been on… Some kind of friendly level. But it was often interrupted with the guy in question doing jerk things and overall being a bit of an ass.  
“Should I say it in your native tongues so all of you get the point? Nein, nincs, nu, and most importantly no.” The no was pointed placed at Adenah who had opened her mouth to say something but shut it with a purse of her lips at the firm rejection. Now the younger crowd’s curiosity was surely peaked. Lucian raised his hand and waved it, waiting to be called upon so he could speak. Emilian nodded to him first, silently.  
“Who is we talking ‘bout?”  
“Who are we talking about.” Emilian corrected softly.  
“Who… Who are we’s talking ah-bout.” It was close enough. And with a loud synchronized inhale and long dreamy sigh, the group suddenly spoke in unison.  
“Sadik Adnan!” Herakles’ face burned slightly as he scowled once more, fists tightening at the name.  
“More like Sad-dick Ass-none.”  
“Hey! Not in front of the children, Jerkules.” Julchen snapped at Herakles, still having an arm wrapped around Feliciano. There was still snickering and giggles, and much to Matthew and Alfred’s confusion even Lucian seemed to know what the joke was despite them having no clue.  
“Who’s that?” Feliciano chimed in, eyes bright and tone light.  
“An old freund of your brother, liebe.” It was Gilbert who said this, gruff voice slightly grating on the ears. Much to both Alfred and Matthew’s shock and none other, Feliciano nodded and then very casually reached out and pat the daemon on the horn with his smile ever present. Julchen didn’t even squirm, rather she just gave Feliciano a slight squeeze.  
“He sounds like a waste of time.” Lovino chimed in while digging some dirt out from under his nails absently. Abrax chirped up, repeating what Lovino had said back to him in the boy’s own voice. This unsettled most everyone and Emilian casually stooped to pick up a pebble and chunk it at Adenah and her daemon.  
“I say we go see him.” Elizaveta added suddenly, eyes locked on Herakles. While Rhea bared her teeth in a strained grin, she peered up at her companion who was suddenly lost in thought.  
“... I’m fighting a losing battle aren’t I?...”  
“Like Troy and Sparta.” Came the response of Emilian. It was then the Herakles simply started to lower himself. Everybody knew what this meant and a chorus of ‘no’s and ‘do not’s rose in volume drastically from Herakles’ friends as the young man kept going down. When he finally landed on the ground butt first loud groans of outrage were heard from all the older ensemble. Once Herakles was down it was near impossible to get him back up again, as they all knew. There was a brief moment where all of the older kids moved into one small tight circle, Lucian close on their heels as he tried to poke his way into their muttering depths. Emilian grasped the boy by the shoulder and stooped down, moving over a bit so the boy was in the circle before whispering whatever their plan appeared to be into the child’s ear.  
With a clear signal of 'go' the group dissipated and split up. Emilian and Elizaveta stood in front of and behind Herakles while Julchen casually strolled right up to the him and pushed him over with the heel of her boot to his shoulder. As he went down with a noise of surprise, Emilian and Elizaveta rushed to grab both his arms and legs and starts to haul him up off the ground. Feliciano and Lovino broke into laughing fits as Herakles was picked up kicking and squirming from the ground by his friends. Alfred's jaw was loose as he watched this spectacle, glancing at Matthew who was staring back with a look of confusion spread over his features. This had to be the strangest display either of them had seen among friends and they'd only just met these people. Who knew what other kinds of things they did.  
"Put me down, you bastards! Down! Cut it out!" Yet they did not. With Adenah and Julchen spotting them to make sure they didn't drop Herakles at any point, Emelian and Elizaveta make quick work to start carrying the Grecian descended young man off. Feliciano and Lovino were hot on their heels. The two college boys stood stalk still in shock as they watched the group get farther and farther away. It seemed their destination was the canal; with a snap of realization Alfred and Matthew took off running after the others to catch up.  
The way there was easy to find for Alfred and Matthew seeing as they had only but to follow the sounds of Herakles protests and muffled laughter. The closer they got to the docks and ports of the canal the more moisture heavy the air was and a light breeze traced over their faces. When they arrived the two boys found that the young adults had dumped their friend in a pile of ropes and were all scattering away so as to not face his anger as he tried to sit up. Herakles was absolutely red in the face, green eyes flashing and narrowed to dangerous slits and he tried to find where his friends had disappeared off to. When they were nowhere to be seen, he sighed and let Rhea jump into his lap and lick his face in an effort to calm him down. Once he was back to his usual self, and only then, the others came back. Emilian had a grin on his face, showing off his abnormally sharp canines, and his little brother bounced along at his heels with the same smile on his face. Elizaveta approached then as well with Andrei loping along by her side, and it was then the Julchen appeared with Feliciano on her back and Adenah with her. Lovino caught eye contact with Alfred and let go of Adenah’s hand, cheeks darkening slightly as he pursed his lips and looked at his brother instead. The twins sure were a pair of ladies’ men.  
“I hope you’re all happy with yourselves.” Herakles muttered, standing now with Rhea securely in his arms. Emilian and Elizaveta answered in a unison.  
“I’ve never been happier.” Automatically the two shot one another looks, sour ones at that, but dismissed it quickly. Adenah brushed back a strand of black hair and rocked on her heels, looking to the boats in the canal.  
“Look at ‘em all. Their skin is so dark, ain’t it? Is it because of all the sun, ya think? It’s awfully pretty...” The crowd turned to gaze at the travelers down on their boats. It was true. Most atop the ships and raft were much darker than the commonman you found traipsing in England. Some of them were the shade as Alala Afolayan back at the college, darker than some of the blackest velvets. Some of their skin shone, others did not; some of them were lighter with skins tones closer to the warm tans that the Vargas family had. Many of them had dark inky black hair while others had coarse brown. They wore clothing that was incredibly light weight but from the looks of it most of them were wearing layers, as if they might have been cold.  
“Look, look! Look at that one! She’s so tall…” It was Julchen who pointed to a woman who had exited from below the deck of one of the larger ships. She was a fine looking woman with dark brown skin that was mostly bared to the elements and eyes of any peeping on the traders. She truly was tall, taller than most of the men she was with, and her short and coarse curly hair that stuck up in a couple of places. Shouting something in a tongue none of the natives of Oxford knew, she grabbed a crate from one of the men with a sudden smile that stopped all of them dead. She was gorgeous. With her bright white teeth and high cheekbones and her broad nose. She easily propped the crate on a shoulder as if it were nothing, looking down at a canine-like animal that must’ve been her daemon.  
“... Wow.” This was from Emilian, who had pushed a hand into his slightly greasy hair in awe. Elizaveta was eyeing him rather than the woman at the moment, looking away right before he glanced at her in turn. Lucian didn’t say anything but rather kept a hand on his brother’s coat and looked between him and Elizaveta.  
“I think that’s the ship... Feliciano, Lovino-- isn’t it?” Herakles started to speak suddenly, eyes still narrowed as he held a hand over them to keep the glare of the sun out. The twins squinted down as well, Feliciano shifting on Julchen’s back and Lovino moving to the front of the group.  
“I think so... I’m pretty sure it is.” The two brothers delivered the same words at a different pace, overlapping as they spoke. Alfred and Matthew were slowly moving to the front of the group, hesitant to butt past the older kids. As they were all contemplating whether this was the ship they thought it was, another woman came on deck from the lower level of the boat. She was dressed in mostly white as many of the others were with the color contrasting with her dark skin. She was just as stunning as any of the others but carried herself and exuded an aura from even where she was that made the town company and the two college boys respect her nearly immediately. Dark black tresses woven with gold plating sat atop her head and her dark eyes were lined dramatically with red eye makeup. In coils upon her neck was a black snake with his head hidden from view. Bands of gold sat upon her otherwise bare arms and as she moved, other members of the ship crew bowed their head to her as if she were royalty.  
“Yes… That’s the ship. That’s her. That’s the leader of the Hassans.” Julchen hiked Feliciano higher up on her back, grin splitting her face as it light up with excitement. Matthew and Alfred could bother feel their skin tingling with their own emotions. They were this close, weren’t they? To finally meeting these strange but entrancing people.  
“What are we waiting around for? Let’s go!” Gilbert stamped his hooves against the ground and grunted, tossing his head-- all before leaving the others in the dust as he rushed off ahead of Julchen. Lia yipped after him, bouncing with each stride, and Julchen tore off after the two daemons as Feliciano gave a whoop of glee and held on tight. The others all seemed to pause for a moment, looking at one another, and then started after the Germanic girl with new vigor. Matthew and Alfred ended up in the back of the train with Lovino several paces ahead of them, hand interlocked with Adenah’s again as she lifted up the skirts of her dress so as to not trip on them. Ottium took wings as a seagull to keep up easier while Lysimanche flew in loops around him, back to her old self indeed.  
Herakles was sent forward first when the group finally arrived to the ship, finding its docking point among the mess of others, and he was quick to identify himself. The women, now even more intimidating and breath taking up close, almost looked shocked to learn the identity of the man she was speaking to. The others watched from afar as she had him lean down so she could cup his face and really look him in the eye. Nodding slowly, she released Herakles and turned away, briskly walking off and leaving the boy there in confusion. She returned curtly with another boy in tow who must have been her son. That was the only way to explain their resemblance. After a brief reunion with the fellow teenager, Herakles finally explained how his friends and two younger brothers were waiting for permission to come aboard. She agreed after a moment of consideration.  
Waving the others forward, the group hesitantly started to board the ship. The crew members eyed them curiously before catching sight of Julchen sticking out like a sore thumb to which they reacted with mystification at her and her daemon’s condition. Emilian kept Lucian close at his side and Elizaveta stood on the younger boy’s other side as well, sandwhich-ing him between his older brother and herself. They looked like a right pair of parents herding their kid along to anybody else. Adenah was wandering closer to the crew, only being tugged back and to the objective point by Lovino; Feliciano slid off of Julchen’s back and instead went with grasping onto one of Gilbert’s horns as he looked around at the other people aboard the ship, occasionally smiling and waving chipperly. Matthew was much more hesitant than the others, not being able to handle the rocking of the boat very well opposed to his familiarity with the steadiness of dry land. Alfred forcibly shoved him forward, only doing so much as to make sure the younger boy didn’t fall over entirely. Just because Matthew couldn’t handle it didn’t mean Alfred wasn’t going to jump head first.  
“Gupta, these are my jackass friends.” The introduction jarred the youngest blond back into reality as he stopped focusing so intently on the feeling of the wood beneath his feet swaying. The older townie kids all made faces at Herakles before quieting down again as they inspected Gupta Muhammad Hassan.  
“And those two are my dumb brothers.” With a gesture, Gupta’s dark eyes trailed over to Lovino first who ducked behind Adenah shyly; he then looked at Feliciano who per his norm waved at the African traveler good heartedly with a smile. Alfred had butted his way to the front of the group again, his previous hesitance and shyness gone entirely, and gawked rather obviously at Gupta despite better interests. The boy resembled his mother greatly in the face and possessed the same body type as she did. His hair was much shorter and a dusty dark brown, cut short and croppily near his skull. He seemed to be wearing a trace of metallic makeup on his eyes like a liner and his eyebrows looked very pronounced. Whether that was makeup or something more natural was unsure. After a stretch of silence the boy finally spoke, hand resting on the back of his daemon-- a white and brown spotted donkey.  
“Hello to Herakles’ jackass friends and dumb brothers.” Now they at least knew he had a sense of humor. Emilian stepped forward first, hand extended for a handshake and his other on the shoulder of his brother.  
“Nice as Jerkules’ introduction skills might be, ‘d like to give you a proper one. The name’s Emilian. This guy here is my little brother Lucian. Say hello now, Luce.” Gupta eyed Emilian’s hand briefly in slight confusion before returning the shake and looking to Lucian. The younger Petulengro put his hand out as well and with a little less pause Gupta shook his as well. Elizaveta was quick to step up now, shoving Emilian out of the way unsubtly as she did so.  
“Pleasure to meet you, Gupta, if you don’t mind me calling you that. My name is Elizaveta Hedevary.” Without a handshake to give, Elizaveta merely stepped back as Emilian made a valiant attempt to bump into her out of revenge. Gupta seemed to be slightly perplexed by the Hungarian born woman’s clothing, as anyone would be, but said nothing of it. Adenah introduced herself next as well as Lovino given the boy seemed to be too shy to do so, instead grumbling out a hello in that old abrasive fashion he often relied on to make a first impression. Julchen introduced herself with exuberance and a bragging title about being the strongest woman in all of Oxford, shaking Gupta’s hand despite the boy being too busy ogling her to really pay much attention to what she was saying. Feliciano chimed in after her and at last Gupta’s gaze turned to Matthew and Alfred.  
Matthew was starting to look a bit green around the edges, vision swimming slightly as he swallowed tightly and blinked rapidly. He felt like he might need to sit down. It wasn’t even as if the boat were rocking violently. It was just a bit too much motion for someone who was used to the floor never moving. Alfred stepped forward instead of Matthew and shoved his hand forward as the other had. The only difference was that he seemed to be sizing Gupta up rather than trying to greet him. The grip he placed on the travel child’s hand was a bit too tight and the handshake a bit too long.  
“I’m Alfred. Alfred Kirkland, actually. I’m not from the town, and neither is he-- the other kid over there. That’s Matthew. We live up in the college with the other scholars.” This information was news to most, Herakles included, and although Gupta’s calm expression did not flutter to show any intimidation or interest in Alfred’s introduction Emilian and most of the other townies reacted with shock. Educated folk? Much less children younger than them.  
“You know my name, all of you now. It is an interesting opportunity, being able to meet you all.” Matthew could only note that Gupta’s English was impeccable, aside from his thick accent, for someone who had likely learned it as a second or even third language. It must have been because of how much he traveled and the fact his family was traders. They had to know English well he supposed. Herakles spoke again, head inclined slightly as he eyed Gupta.  
“Is it true then? That Adnan hopped aboard your ships and hitched a ride back to the low lands and deserts? He’s here?” Gupta considered this, holding Herakles’ gaze before his eyes slid closed and he sighed softly. His daemon answered this question instead, her tone of voice tested but patient.  
“Indeed it is, Hera. But… did you come here to see him, truly? Rhea?” The donkey daemon shuffled in place, hooves clicking against the wood, and eyed the smaller daemon curiously as she bared her teeth in another stressed grin. For one of the first times ever, Matthew heard the canine speak.  
“Admittedly… I am curious, Adiva. Very curious. Dilara hadn’t settled before she left…” Adiva flicked her ears and swung her head around to look at Gupta who had finally opened his own eyes again. Herakles had a sneer on his face again, obviously refusing to look at the others as they all slowly started to grin about Herakles’ true feelings towards this situation being somewhat revealed. Feliciano and Lovino were getting more excited with the passing time, obviously ready to meet this mystery man that kept being talked about. Gupta raised a hand and made a ‘follow me’ gesture.  
“He is not aboard this ship, I do not think. He has likely already gone to town to set up the booths. We will have to go now to catch him-- he works quickly.” A small eruption of chatter sparked to life and quieted to mutters as Herakles turned, Gupta passing by his with the soft slap of his sandals against the floor.  
“It is best you inform my mother where it is we are going, Herakles.”  
“Of course. Rhea, go tell Anahita where we’re going, would you?” The greyhound was set down at this point and she quickly skittered off to find the woman while Gupta eyed crew members away from Julchen. She was starting to notice the amount of attention was she getting as well and was slightly uncomfortable with it, crossing her arms over her chest as Gilbert paced in circles around her and dug his hooves into the wooden deck of the ship. Feliciano stood outside the clear circle the Gilbert was making around Julchen, holding Lia in his arms. Rhea returned soon enough and will all components in check the group started back off the ship with Gupta leading the way, sitting upon his daemons back in a sidesaddle position. Alfred was muttering things to Matthew in the back of the group again, but the younger boy wasn’t particularly listening. He was just glad to have gotten off the boat for the time being. It had been making him sick.  
The trip further into town, farther than Alfred and Matthew had ever gone with Lovino and Feliciano, was an interesting one. They passed by and through shops and streets as well as passing others homes. When they at last came to a square where the traders appeared to be setting up their booths and shops alongside many others native to the area, it was easy to spot who was a trader and who wasn’t just by their daemons. Foreign birds and mammals-- even reptiles and insects-- were not hard to spot among the more tame varieties of work horses, familiar canines and small felines, and absently cooing messenger birds. Gupta did not have to waste much time looking for Sadık, finding him just by spotting his daemon. The native company had a collective gasp of mixed emotions as they realized finally that his was in fact Sadık Adnan’s daemon.  
She was all power and grace, long tail weaving in the air as she reared up onto her hindlegs and placed big paws on the side of a crate that he started to tip slightly. Her ears flicked to reveal white patches on the back before her head swung to lock onto Gupta and Adiva, eyes a bright gold that reminded both Alfred and Matthew all too much of the unpleasant things that had transpired in the past week or so. Mouth splitting to reveal long slightly yellowed fangs, the daemon showed humor as she bellowed out to her human counterpart with a deep but pleasant voice. Automatically a man made himself known, straightening up from where he had been bent over sorting through another crate of what appeared to be spices. Shading his eyes out of habit despite there being no sun he needed to block out, green tinted hazel eyes were quick to spot Gupta but flick straight to Herakles. It was him.  
Sadık Adnan was clad in more colorful clothes than the other traders but they had the same loose quality and as with the others he was not nearly as ‘appropriately’ dressed as most might wish for him to be. He had rather curly short dark brown hair and very much looked the part of a grown man with the stubble he was sporting. Feliciano was staring at him blankly before proclaiming to Matthew, who had ended up nearest to him, that Sadık looked like a hot version of his dad. Matthew stared at Feliciano unsure of what to say, face twisted with awkwardness. The large cat, most definitely a tiger, that was Dilara dropped after making sure the crate was staying up and was quick to bound up to the group. Most of them backed away out of fright of her form more so than the threat of touching her. Sadık arrived shortly after her, a handsome grin on his face.  
“Look who it is! God’s grace, you’re all grown up aren’t you?” Sadık spoke with a low voice, lower than even Emilian or Herakles’ and surely lower than most men that even Matthew and Alfred had encountered in the college. Gupta was looking the other way now, not wanting to look at Sadık it seemed. Elizaveta was still slightly spooked by Dilara, Andrei cowering uncharacteristically away from her. Emilian was intrigued but stayed his distance from her, Constanta curled tightly around his neck. Abrax had been the only one to approach her, hovering noisily by her head as she stared at the much smaller bird with the same curiosity. Even Ruxandra had not dared to go near Dilara despite looking just as fearsome if not more so than the great tigress.  
“You look… Different. Too.” Herakles seemed to have lost his voice almost altogether. Rhea stood behind his legs, grateful that Dilara was busy inspecting Abrax rather than getting near her. Sadik slapped a hand down on Herakles shoulder, inspecting their height difference. They were about the same, Herakles only an inch or so shorter than Sadık.  
“I would hope so, Herakles... It’s good to see you.” Lovino, who had been straining to stay hidden behind Adenah and Julchen while still peeking at Sadık, suddenly tripped over himself and fell quite abruptly to the ground and succeeded in startling everyone with his cry of pain. Feliciano stepped in to help his twin up, jumping at how suddenly Sadık had moved over to them both.  
“Herakles, I would hope these two aren’t yours. I know you like to get busy, but I’d bet a month’s worth of salt you’re still living with your mother.” This was all said musingly, a smile still on the older man’s face as he peered down at the trembling Lovino and slightly quaking Feliciano. Herakles scoffed to himself, a surprising flush gracing his cheeks.  
“Hardly. Those are my brothers. I help take care of them, so yes. I do live with my mother.” The others were still in a stunned silence, watching the two men interact. Gupta and Adiva had trotted farther away now, likely to supervise the goods and other workers unloading them. Sadık dropped to a crouch in front of the twins, reaching out a hand and tousling Lovino’s hair as Feliciano stared at him. Dilara’s attention was now on them as well. It appeared she had found that Abrax was not Rhea and had lost a bit of interest. The mockingbird still sat atop of her head, but she did not pay him any attention as he did so. Lovino didn’t seem to appreciate the hair ruffling and rather and quite suddenly burst into tears when Sadık smiled and greeted him.  
Feliciano reacted almost immediately, pushing Lovino behind him and doing something that shocked everyone more than the older twin abruptly crying. He pulled back his leg and kicked Sadık roughly in the shin. Herakles shouted at his younger brother in alarm, rushing forward to separate the two as Dilara gave a low growl that sent shivers down spines and Lia grinned in stress and made an attempt to stand in front of Letiza.  
“Shit-- Herakles, your little brother there has a leg to him. Jesus Christ! You got me good, kid!" Feliciano stared with eyes narrowed, still standing firmly in front of Lovino who was already starting to calm back down, rubbing his tears into the younger twin’s shirt. Adenah and Julchen’s jaws had dropped, and Lucian was staring at the other kids from behind Emilian. It was rare that either of the boys ever lashed out violently at anything, especially Feliciano. Perhaps Lovino had just been too intimidated by Dilara, still not used to the sudden influx of new faces and people. Despite his big talk and act Lovino wasn’t entirely good with new people and tended to react poorly.  
“Feliciano, damn it, you can’t just kick people like that. Lovino, are you okay? Both of you, I swear--” Sadık, although now limping ever so slightly from pain, took it all in alarmingly good nature. He clapped a hand on Herakles’ shoulder again, and supporting himself subtly he exhaled.  
“Relax, relax. I spooked the kid, the other one swooped in to protect him. Did a damn good job too. Never can underestimate those little guys. But, on another note. Elizaveta, Emilian. Sad to know you don’t remember me very well, but I suppose I never messed with you much to leave a good impression.” Emilian and Elizaveta reacted with shock, surprised entirely that Sadık had known their name and the implication that they had somehow known this man before he left mysteriously. They really only knew him through Herakles’ stories-- or so they had thought. It was something that would likely remain a mystery if at least to the two college boys given they wouldn’t get to hang around often enough to figure anything out.  
While Herakles, Elizaveta, and Emilian sat down with Gupta and Sadik to talk about older days Adenah and Julchen joined the kids as they sat aside and watched the older group talking quietly. Alfred and Matthew both were rather quiet, preferring the company of one another since Lovino and Feliciano were busying themselves with their respective ladies. Lucian had edged his way over to the two blonds anyways, finally cracking smiles at them now that they had all been around one another for a little while. He was a rather dirty child but he seemed nice enough even if so far he had been mostly silent. Although Matthew and Alfred had been quietly discussing the strange man who was Sadik Adnan, they soon found Lucian sitting right by them listening intently to what they were saying. Matthew said nothing about it but Alfred had other ideas.  
“... Hey, you. Lucian, right?” The boy took a moment to realize he was being spoken to by Alfred but quickly nodded once he did, hands coming up to try and fix his hair self consciously.  
“How old are you?” The question was said while Alfred eyed Ruxandra, who had slithered her way forward and was peering at the two blond’s daemons with an obvious interest. Lucian was wringing his wrists now, a troubled look on his face before he shrugged a bit.  
“Iunno. Old enough?” Matthew looked at Alfred now, brows quirked in concern and mouth twisted with confusion. Lucian shifted until he was sitting back on his heels. His shoes were the newest thing about his outfit, obviously having been bought rather recently.  
“You don’t look fifteen.” Alfred said bluntly, not having met Matthew’s gaze but rather staring Lucian down. The other child inclined his head at this and blinked.  
“You’re smart, right? They’ve got’em jobs in that fancy place?” Matthew answered this time, brushing hair back behind his ear as he reached out his other hand to rest it on Ottium’s back.  
“Jobs in… the college?” Another nod. Matthew had to think about this. He didn’t know much about what it meant to become a scholar other than the fact most of them had come from wealthy backgrounds that could afford some kind of entry fee that was required to get in. As for the servants, most of them were there just so they had some kind of job security. The college provided them with the means to make their own food, something to do with their times, and most importantly of all a place where they had clothes on their back and a roof over their head. He’d never heard any of them really talk about their work as if it were a paying job. He just had to wonder why Lucian was asking these questions. Matthew could guess the boy was only a little younger than he was.  
“Why do you ask.” Alfred was the one to question it first and Lucian looked back and over to where Emilian was currently grinning at Elizaveta with his eyes narrowed. Matthew clicked the pieces together first. Lucian was trying to get a job for Emilian, possibly even himself. Working as a servant, although looked down upon by many, was an easy way to get by through life with at least the basic comforts. Judging from the looks of the two, basic comforts was exactly what they didn’t really have.  
“... Well they don’t have jobs. Sorry.” Again it was Alfred speaking. Matthew was going to say something before his voice seemed to falter in his throat and died out before it even managed to make any noise. Closing his mouth, Matthew blinked as he watched Lucian wilt slightly and cast another look back to his older brother who was now laughing at something that Sadik had said seeing as Herakles was rather red in the face.  
“Suppose no good… You’ll smart folk though. Speakin’ clear n’all.” Lysimanche had made her way away from Alfred and was now inspecting Ruxandra where she was sitting behind Lucian, not speaking to her yet but rather just looking. Ottium sat still where he was, rubbing his head against Matthew’s leg as the boy sat still. He felt guilty for not having told Lucian about the reality behind the ‘jobs’ at the college but couldn’t bring himself to say anything for some reason. He wasn’t really sure why but he couldn’t.  
“I guess so... Not everybody who speaks clearly is smart though; not everyone who speaks improperly is unintelligent.” Lucian looked up from picking dirt out from under his nails at this, eyeing Alfred in slight shock which melted to a look of absolute respect. It seemed Lucian had found his own knight in shining armor. Scooting a tad bit closer to Alfred now, the boy managed to grin again and rocked on his heels slightly.  
“Sure is... ‘telligent of you, Alfred-- I wish all rich folk were nice like you!” This seemed to surprise the boy out of his previously aloof demeanor as he stared at Lucian.  
“What do you mean? I’m not…” Now he could feel all eyes on him. Lucian’s exclamation and Alfred’s rejection of the statement now had Lovino and Feliciano eyeing the pair of college boys. Julchen and Adenah were trying a little harder to not make their stares so obvious but in the end it was clear. Even Matthew was looking at Alfred now, face drawn tight at the boy’s attempt to deny being wealthy. Shifting in his spot, Alfred carefully avoided eye contact with any of them and merely swallowed dryly.  
“Mister Eldelsting is pretty smart’n’rich too, but he’s sorta stiff. That’s what Emil says.”  
“Edelstein.” This was Julchen softly correcting Lucian’s mispronunciation of yet another mystery man’s name. Lucian repeated it back to her slowly.  
“Is that so…” Lucian nodded happily, not even minding Alfred’s slip up in the eyes of the others and just kept going on. He proceeded to talk about how his brother was such a hard worker and about his father and mother or lack there of. He asked Alfred if he had a pretty mom to which the blond could only say that he wasn’t sure. Lucian accepted the answer before going on talking again. Lovino and Feliciano slowly went back to their own conversations with Julchen and Adenah, although their voices were much more hushed. It was more than likely they were now discussing Alfred and Matthew. Nobody was perfect and sometimes even your friends aren’t safe from a bit of smack talk. Such was life.  
As Lucian kept talking Alfred started to block him out, not interested that much in hearing about the child’s woes and hardships despite it being incredibly rude. Matthew on the other hand listened closely, intrigued with Lucian’s story about the town life. How sometimes they didn’t have anything to eat and that Emilian and his father often weren’t home. That Elizaveta was one of his best friends because she paid him part of her work salary if he shined her shoes for her or brushed her hair nicely. After the twins and their companions had stopped listening to them altogether, Lucian looked back to make sure the older group was still occupied and leaned forwards to Alfred and Matthew by extension. It was then he whispered a hushed confession.  
“I really wanna have Emil weddin’ Eliza, you know? She’d be nice mom to have. They done known one’n another for a real long time an’ I know he likes her though.” Nodding now that he had confided this secret to the two blonds, Lucian sat back on his heels again and reached out to run a hand along Ruxandra’s scaled body. Alfred looked back over to Emilian now, seeing that indeed the older boy was goofing around with Elizaveta making faces at her as she socked him one in the arm with a poorly suppressed guffaw of laughter. The two honestly were a confusing pair. On one hand they seemed to like poking meanly at one another and to hear that Emilian liked Elizaveta made it even stranger. Was that how relationships normally went with girls?  
“What are you three talking ‘bout now?” This was Adenah asking, pale blue eyes fixed on the trio as they looked up to meet her gaze. Matthew shrugged, still remaining silent and Lucian followed suit with his own shrug after watching Matthew do so. Alfred just smiled broadly and laughed.  
“Nothing important.” 

Parting with Sadık was an interesting thing. He kept hovering over the three older townies now that they had all established some sort of friendship again. Herakles didn’t seem entirely pleased with the development but judging from the fact he and Sadık had not squabbled or done anything overly mean to one another it could be guessed that the Grecian born young man was merely being exaggeratedly bitter. The way back to the boats was filled with idle chatter and nothing incredibly important other than Lucian hanging by Alfred which caused Emilian to raise his eyebrows more than once. The elder Petulengro brother clearly wasn’t pleased with Lucian getting so buddy-buddy with Alfred so quickly but dismissed it. At least his brother had made a friend.  
Back on the boats, Gupta invited them to stay a little while longer. The crew was friendly and they were all curious about what had transpired in Oxford while they had been absent. Mostly his mother, he added. It was mostly his mother who was curious. And curious she was seeing as she appeared before them not long after with her daemon uncoiled from around her graceful neck and instead on her strong forearm, head raised as he stared at the group.  
“Did you find who you were looking for, Herakles?” Her voice held the same thick accent as Gupta’s, her tone strong but soothing at the same time. Herakles nodded to her, stating that he had found who he had been looking for. Elizaveta chimed in that the whole thing had gone better than expected-- for example: Herakles had not foamed at the mouth or bled from his ears. The quip earned a slight smile from Anahita as her daemon, the cobra Hapep, gave a hiss of a laugh. With a wave of her hand, the dark skinned matriarch of the travelers invited them all below deck with her. Matthew, now feeling not so guilty from earlier but again a bit motion sick, sighed softly and leaned his arm against Alfred’s. The older boy looked down at him with a strange expression on his face that Matthew would of questioned had he seen it.  
Down below they went, greeted with the scent of strange smokes and spices that made a couple of them cough slightly before they adjusted to it. Light was supplied by lantern hanging up on the walls and sitting on the floor. Several people and their daemons were lounging around, some of them nodding to the group as they passed by. Anahita took them to a part farther to the back of the ship before gesturing for them to sit down. Once all seated on the rug that was laid out on the floor, Anahita joined them and folded her hands in her lap.  
“It is a joy to have you here. This boat, this vessel, is our home as much as a house may be yours… We welcome you.” The words were taken graciously with a sense of pride. It really was a once in a lifetime sort of thing. They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Herakles’ connection with Gupta Muhammad. Giving their own thanks in turn, the group nodded along to Anahita’s words as they watched Hapep slither off her arm and land in a coil on the floor.  
“Tell me now, all of you, what is the news in Oxford? Here in Europe?” There was a rise of voices that swelled briefly before Emilian calmly raised his hand to be called upon to speak as the rest went silent. Anahita nodded to him and the Petulengro elder reached out and clasped a hand on his younger brother, tugging him closer to his side before speaking.  
“It’s a bit of a rumor, miss, but… Lately here, in England-- Well really, in lands even farther than that, up in the northern country-- they say that children have been going missing. Kidnapped. Nobody has gotten to the bottom of it yet, nuh-uh, but I’d be betting money on it being ghouls---” Elizaveta, who had been sitting on Emilian’s other side, sharply elbowed him in the ribs with a scowl.  
“But that’s not what it is! It’s a rumor! Nobody has any proof about this so don’t go spooking innocent people with your nasty superstitious talk about demons and snatchers.” Emilian gritted his teeth at the strike and bared a snarl at Elizaveta who returned it with more ferocity. Julchen reached back behind the others to hit them both in the lower backs, nearly falling over to reach Elizaveta, and then sat up as if she hadn’t done it. The two fell silent at the hits and merely looked opposite directions of one another.  
“Is this so… Rumors start for reasons. I am grateful of this warning. We will make sure to keep a sharp eye on the children we have aboard with us at all times.” Now Lovino raised his hand, following suit as Emilian had with waiting to be called on. Anahita nodded to him in turn, allowing him the chance to speak. The boy put his hand back down and cleared his throat, making sure everyone was listening.  
“Lately the church has been doing strange things. From what I heard they’re closing down the libraries… Sounds pretty useless to me. Lots of people like the library despite not many of them having a lick of a clue as to how to read a book. Mama was right about them-- they just like to suck the fun out of life.” Julchen was squinting at Lovino now, an intimidating look coming from her of all people. Feliciano looked between the two with confusion.  
“The church is closing down libraries because they’re spreading misinformation and rebelling against them. If they just listened to the church and did as told the church wouldn’t be shutting them down.” Elizaveta shifted now, peering down the line at Julchen and Lovino.  
“What would a library do that goes against a church? They’re just books, Julchen. I think Lovino is trying to---”  
“It doesn’t matter. They’re doing something, aren’t they? Something they aren’t supposed to.” Anahita raised her hand and a silence fell automatically. Although Lovino looked like he still had words resting on his tongue that he had planned to say in argument to Julchen’s defense over the church, he did not speak.  
“... Does the church hold much power in these lands?” Anahita’s voice had dropped to a deathly whisper that allowed the townie group and their college visitors to hear the creak of the wood against the water and the sound of voices up on deck. She sounded intense, serious. Emilian spoke now, hesitant to do so.  
“Yes… Ma’m-- They do.”  
“They’re the unifying force of all of Europe. Or all of Europe that is worth mentioning.” Julchen interjected again, her tone revealing her aggravation on the topic. Emilian cast her a glance of unease, tightening his hold on Lucian who was obviously concerned about his older brother’s sudden unrest. This was clearly a subject that had the group divided amongst themselves. Alfred and Matthew were more confused than anything. Growing up in the college had kept them from much influence cast by religious sects and holy worship was not something they’d ever dabbled in. Granted of course they knew of God and a couple of the biblical stories that were more infamous but the college operated on a strictly non-secular status. The arts had more importance in their community which was surely saying something. It was then that Adenah of all people spoke up.  
“The church is pretty important, yu-huh… Things’ve been changing a bit. As ya can see, ma’m, even this small group of us isn’t at a consensus with our opinions.” Feliciano stirred slightly, gaze averted downward as he clutched to Lia’s pelt and avoided saying anything on the topic. Anahita stared at all of them, her gaze severe with the rim of kohl around her eyes. Julchen’s mouth twisted with anger but she didn’t dare say another word about it. This was a battle for another day and doing so in company was rude. Alfred quite suddenly blurted out in the thick silence, sitting up straight and making sure he was definitely heard.  
“My uncle is in town right now. Arthur Kirkland-- he’s here on business.” With a different topic to grasp onto, the group’s mood instantly shifted. Most were still shocked at the fact that Matthew and Alfred were from the college so the news that Alfred was the relative of such a figurehead in their society was still a bit to swallow. Anahita’s face twisted with contempt that was not even close to being masked.  
“The Arthur Kirkland, I would think... Isn’t that nice for him.” The distaste in Anahita’s tone was enough to tip the others off that she didn’t hold much love for the man in question. Alfred didn’t pick up on it quite so fast and instead continued to talk.  
“He’s just come back from a big expedition to some place. I tried figuring out where but-- well, I didn’t ask him-- but I didn’t find out anything. It was something out east though.” The group listened intently to this information. It wasn’t as if most of them hadn’t heard that the politicians and explorers had gone on the move again. Those types of people held mixed images in their world-- they were both idols and bastards. Celebrities of the scandalous variety. Arthur Kirkland was very high up on the list among these people that the public watched from over the tops of their books.  
“East… To bother the Witches again? Have your people not stung at them enough?” Anahita could only shake her head, raven black hair swaying with the motion as her eyes slid closed and she bowed her head. The mention of the Witches of the East made most fidget again with discomfort. The bothering and stinging Anahita was mentioning could only be the attempts that the church had made to convert the ‘wild women’ of those cold lands. It had ended poorly with a variety of battles breaking out where, as the church said, the Witches had attacked missionaries with no provocation. The truth behind these statements were unclear. All the same, most if not all viewed the Witches as something not quite human. Something that should be feared.  
“I… I don’t know. Maybe? I want to know more but he won’t tell me anything. Either of them.” Matthew identified the ‘either of them’ statement pertaining to Arthur and Sampson. Those maps that they had seen in Sampson’s room must have had something to do with the expedition East. The Far East. Past the East? It was something that made little sense to Matthew but he knew that with time things would become clear. So he hoped.  
“How bothersome.” This was all the woman had to say any further on the topic, eyes opened again but narrowed. At this time the woman that the group had seen earlier entered the underdeck space, leaning over as to not hit her head, and came with hustle to Anahita’s side. She paused upon seeing that her superior was speaking to a group of townsfolk, confusion making itself evident upon her features. Anahita looked up at the woman, expression back to a neutral as her eyebrows arched up.  
“Ayitaishe, there you are. Are the goods in order?” The woman, apparently named Ayitaishe, straightened up slightly only to nearly knock her head against the underside of the deck above them. Her daemon barked at her to be more careful, that she should know better by now, and she gave an embarrassed smile.  
“Bho, Ndino ziva Chasakara-- Ehe, Anahita. The shipments have been fixed and the good are being haggled as we speak.”  
“Excellent. Good work, Ayita.” A nod was given in thanks for the praise before Ayitaishe’s gaze shifted to peer at the townies with clear questioning. Anahita kept her gaze locked on her underling, knowing full well what her silent inquiry was.  
“They’re visitors. They have shared news with me of the on goings here in the city. I have duties to attend to but I would appreciate if you returned the favor to them. Sit, Ayitaishe-- you have spent much of the day working. Tell them stories of our times abroad; anything of the sort. You always loved to tell tales.” Ayitaishe seemed surprised at the words coming from Anahita’s mouth, hands coming together to claps in front of her as she watched the shorter woman stand slowly. Hapep curled around her leg since he had no access to her torso, and as Ayitaishe agreed quietly to the half proposition half order Anahita left in silence. Once she was gone the tall black skinned woman looked down at the group still seated upon the floor. She raised a hand in greeting and smiled at them once more, earning plenty of smiles and waves back. Chasakara, her daemon, wagged his tail slowly as he watched Lysimanche hopping closer. Ottium was quick to warn the other daemon not to mess with the older stranger, earning a bit of a giggle from others as Lysimanche scoffed.  
“Ah… You all are from the town here. Natives of England?”  
“In the barest sense, ma’m.” Ayitaishe nodded at the answer, slowly lowering herself in the spot that Anahita had left open. She sat cross legged, folding her feet into the crooks of her knees. Reaching up a hand to itch at her scalp briefly, Ayitaishe mulled over her next moves without a word spoken; the others watched her patiently.  
“You all are here for stories, so said?” The older individuals of the group looked amongst one another with a shared thought. They were a little old to sit around listening to stories. Adenah and those younger than her-- that being the twins, Alfred and Matthew, and Lucian-- sat raptly forward, excited to hear a story from the woman before them.  
“Please, do tell us one, missus.” This was Matthew speaking, holding Ottium in his lap. Alfred had uncurled his legs from beneath him and had Lysimanche perching upon his shoulder, feathers ruffled up and eyes alert. Lucian was sitting back on his heels with Ruxandra curled in a thick coil around his stomach, and the twins were nearby both with identical looks of concentration on their faces. Adenah had a small smile of excitement present on her lips, sitting in a well enough position that she was comfortable but her dress skirts sat modestly. Ayitaishe nodded, casting a side glance to the less attentive older children before returning her attention the ones that were listening to her.  
“I can tell you all a story. That I can, indeed! In fact I’ve got a good one already… You all heard the story of the ram and the sheep? Lightning and Thunder?” Several shakes of the head met the question in earnest. None of them had heard such a story, no.This pleased Ayitaishe as she let Chasakara rest his head and paws on her leg, giving him a little itch behind the ear.  
“You see-- long ago in olden times the thunder and the lightning lived here on the soil with us, amongst the people of a village with a good king. See, Thunder was an old sheep. She was gentle with a loud booming voice that often scared others so she didn’t speak often. Lightning was her son, a big brash ram who was extraordinarily fast; he also had a temper although he was silent.” She stopped speaking momentarily to let the information sink into the minds of those listening, watching them carefully to gauge when they were ready for her to continue.  
“When that big ram got mad, why, he did things that made his poor mama sheep weep sometimes. He got to setting things on fire and knocking over trees. See, they already lived at the edge of the town because people complained about that ram lighting houses up and attacking people. The king’s orders. That didn’t stop him now, no it did not. And so whenever he got to doing these things his mama sheep, Thunder, would bellow at him to stop what he’s doing.” Another pause.  
“The people got tired of the destruction that Lightning was bringing every time he up and got mad and so the king told Thunder to take herself and her son out and to live in the brush farther away from the people of the village. Yet even then that didn’t stop that ram’s nasty temper from affecting the people of the village. When they complained about it yet again the king banished the sheep and her son to the sky. “ The younger ensemble listened closely as Ayitashe kept talking and talking, telling stories about how things came to be and explaining the meaning behind things. She told them a grand story about how she had helped fend off a hippopotamus attack along the river Nile in Egypt back several seasons when she had been off duty during trade times. She even told them about the animals there, pointing out a couple daemons of the people lounging around and explaining what they were. Even the older group tuned back in at some point to listen to her speak.  
"Missus Ayi...ta--"  
"Ayitashe." Matthew nodded to her and repeated her name correctly this time before continuing with his question. Gesturing to the broad shouldered woman's resting daemon, he spoke again.  
"What kind of animal is your daemon, if you do not mind me asking?" Ayitashe looked to Chasakara who looked back with perked ears, eyes showing his attention was on her now. As she ran a hand over his head, he stood and stretched and started to lope around while shaking his head.  
“He is no dog that’s for sure. He is a jackal. A black backed one at that. He is a fine looking thing, yes?” Chasakara lifted his head higher at the praise and let out a laugh that only vaguely startled those listening to it. It was a strange mixture halfway between a braying bark and an actual human sounding laugh. Matthew quietly reached out a hand and set it on his own daemon’s back, watching the jackal intently. He was not a dog, Matthew had to think. No, he might look a bit like one but he wasn’t. Just like Ayitashe was kind of like them but at the same time she wasn’t. All of these people really. They were something a bit more wild, a bit more… Free. Maybe it was because they were travelers?  
“Miss Ayitashes,” Adenah spoke up now, earning the black skinned woman’s attention with no comment on the extra ‘s’ in her name. “Can ya tell us one more story, at least, please?” There was a many nods given by the group that had happily saddled up to listen to Ayitashe’s stories at this point. The hippopotamus story had certainly gotten all of their attention.  
“Of course I can!” Ayitashe was having just as much fun telling stories as Anahita had told her she would. The broad and bright smiled woman had always been an expert when it came to painting pictures for others with her words and in her childhood had once dreamt of being the honored Tale Teller of her community. Of course that was before she had decided to join the trading routes like many others had. So she was content with thinking up another story to tell her avid listeners. Children were children, after all, and children always loved stories. She would have to give them a good one for this last one. There was one that was well known even outside of the culture it originally started in due to such an extravagant nature.  
“Tell me, all you young and younger. Have you heard Epic of Sundiata?” There was a collective murmur of confusion as the Oxford residents expressed different levels of intrigue and curiosity. Alfred leaned forward now, Lysimanche perched on his shoulder once more in the form of a crow.  
“No… Can you say that name again?” Emilian asked this, slowly, as he tried to repeat the name back to himself in silence.  
“Sundiata! He was only one of the greatest kings of Africa! He wasn’t always such a great king, but he founded the Mali kingdom and defeated an evil sorcerer, and--”  
“Wait, wait, don’t spoil anything. Start from the beginning!” This plea came from Alfred and Lysimanche, the two swapping back and forth with the words they were saying before ending in unison. Ayitashe couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the two voices intermingling. Nodding to Alfred and acknowledging his pleading, the woman drummed her fingers on her knees and leaned back onto her tail bone to pop her back.  
“The story starts long long ago in the deep heart of the Mandinka kingdom. In this kingdom was a king named Naré Maghann Konaté with the daemon of a water buffalo. He was known also as Maghan Kon Fatta; Maghan the Handsome. He was a good king, but was far from the greatest of those to ever rule. One day a soothsayer from Sangaran came to his court with promises of a great heir that he would sire.” The words were hung to raptly. The older of the town children nodded at the knowledge, Emilian and Lucian automatically knowing what the word ‘soothsayer’ meant while Elizaveta leaned in to Emilian and hushedly asked for a definition.  
“The soothsayer said to king Naré Maghann Konaté, good king Maghan the Handsome, that if he wed to an ugly woman she would birth to him a son that would lead his kingdom to great victory. This was something that raised many questions, as Konaté was wed to and had sired children with the queen Sassouma Bereté. They had a son at this time, named Dankaran Toumani Keïta. Dismissing the prophecy, king Maghan lived his life peacefully.” The names confused the slacked tongues of the English speakers, coming out as jumbled messes in their heads as they listened to Ayitashe say them smoothly and with great reverence. Lovino and Alfred alike were muttering the names under their breath in an attempt to get them right and Matthew sat with his face a mask of concentration, eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he listened attentively to the story. Herakles had moved closer to his brothers at this point, sitting behind them but giving them room to breath. Elizaveta was, per custom, sitting on one side of Lucian while Emilian sat on the other. Lucian himself was switching back and forth between who he was choosing to lean against; with the way the two young adults were sitting the arms they were using to support their weight formed an ‘X’ behind the younger brother of the Petulengro duo.  
“One day, out of the randomest of days, two Traoré hunters brought forth to king Maghan an ugly woman-- indeed she was, and she had with her a daemon in the form of a cackling hyena. She was part lame for she was so terribly deformed, the poor woman. Although he almost made to send her away, the king Maghan remembered the prophecy and took her to wed. His wife, Sassouma Bereté, was not pleased with this news at all. It was not soon until the woman, named Sogolon, birthed a son to the king Maghan. And so he was named Sundiata.” Ayitashe took a pause to find her own breath. She had been talking for quite a while now and her own mouth felt slightly cottony with lack of moisture and rest. A couple of the others that were sitting below deck with the company had started to lazily listen from where they rested to Ayitashe, although the story was one they all knew very if not quite by heart.  
“Sundiata was born lame in the legs, unable to walk for much of his childhood. King Maghan did not understand how this child was supposed to be his great and might heir and although he kept Sogolon and Sundiata safe in his royal vicinity, he did not care much for his unattractive bride or incapable son who had inherited his mother’s look. He returned his attention to his other wife and healthier child, who had settled with the daemon of a cheetah. In the meantime, Sassouma made cruel fun of Sologon and her failure of a son. She poked at Sundiata for his lameness and his ugliness and ended up posing quite the threat to the boy who silently took all of her meanness, for he could not speak.” Alfred butted in now,his face a mask of confusion and unsubtle contempt.  
“If this guy is supposed to be some great king then why can’t he do anything? He can’t walk, he can’t talk, and he’s ugly. What kind of hero is like that?” Ayitashe took Alfred’s interruption in stride. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard the question asked before by other children. It was only natural for them to be confused on how someone like Sundiata could possibly have ever become a grand hero.  
“Even the most unexpected can become legendary, boy. You will see how Sundiata came to be King of Mali. You see, although king Maghan had his doubts about Sundiata he still respected the words of the soothsayer.” At this Emilian and Lucian nodded, agreeing with Ayitashe’s words and the choices of Maghan.  
“He appointed to Sundiata his most trusted griot, Djeli Mamadou Kouyaté, his own advisor. It was custom you see. King Maghan had many doubts with Sundiata and queen Sassouma feared that her husband would make this lame boy the king instead of their capable son, Dankaran. In the end, Sassouma’s hatred for Sogolon and Sundiata forced the two of them to flee to the Mema kingdom for safety. They brought Sundiata’s griot with them when they went and there, Sundiata’s growth began.”  
“Now while Sundiata finally learned to speak and grew to be respected by the king of the Mema kingdom, Moussa Tounkara, and the people who followed this king... a threat was rising over the Mandinka people of future Mali. See, there was another kingdom, that of the Sosso. They were ruled over by an evil man. He was a powerful sorcerer who could call upon the winds to sweep away his enemies and devastate the land of his foes if he so wished. As the story is told, the man was so cruel and unnatural that he possessed no daemon. Instead, he had the ability to transform into a creature himself. He could morph himself into the form of a sand snake and slither away in the grounds to escape from danger. This king’s name was Soumaoro Kanté.” The abnormal news that a human being could change into the shape of an animal rather than their daemons brought grimaces to the faces of the listeners. The news that someone could be so evil as to not have a daemon was even worse. That hardly made them human. This evil king Soumaoro must have been something else with his magic powers and lack of daemon. His lack of soul. The idea made their skin crawl and the image of a man, tall and thin with dark skin and narrowed dark eyes, transforming into a serpent stuck in their minds.  
“Words traveled to the Mema kingdom of king Maghan’s passing and the presence of the sorcerer Soumaoro lingering over the land of the Mandinka kingdom. Sundiata and Sologon soon heard that Sundiata’s half-sister born to the queen Sassouma, princess Nana Triban, was kidnapped by the sorcerer and was going to be forced to be his wife. The princess was a clever girl, very clever, but she was weak with grief and sorrow when Soumaoro took her away to his dry and fruitless lands to his hut of bones. Sogolon, although fearful of Sassouma still, was stricken with sadness at the thought of the princess being forced into matrimony with the sorcerer Soumaoro and to Sundiata she called… ‘Sundiata! My son! Stand, you lame child, stand!’ For she wished for him to do something, anything, about this awful happening.” The awe and apprehension with which Ayitashe uttered these words had the children leaning forward, eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar. Was it possible? No, Sundiata was basically cripple. There was no way…  
“And hearing his mother in such emotional agony angered Sundiata. His useless half-brother had become king just in time to be overruled by Soumaoro and for what? His father’s name to shame, his half-sister Nana Triban captured, and the queen sickly with her own woe-- he could not stand for it! And with a great breath he lept to his feet! His daemon, as slow as she was, pounced forth and took form of a lioness and she roared! And with a shout of rage Sundiata took a hold of the tree he and his mother had been resting beneath and ripped it free of the ground roots and all-- then, with a single swing, he hurled the tree and watched it sail away into the distance!” There were gasps of actual wonder as Ayitashe gestured widely and expressively with her arms and hands to describe the sudden and marvelous feats performed by Sundiata. Alfred seemed the most pleased, blue eyes sparkling brightly as a silly grin of glee found its way onto his face. Matthew on the other hand couldn’t help the image of Francis uprooting a tree enter his head upon hearing that Sundiata’s daemon had become a lioness.  
“The king Moussa Tankara of the Memas saw this and knew at once that Sundiata must return to the Mandinka kingdom to claim his rightful throne and to defeat the sorcerer Soumaoro. First, of course, Sundiata had to raise an army. He could not simply march into the Sosso kingdom and beat the sorcerer with his bare hands. He had to have a plan. He had to have a strategy. So the now grown Sundiata returned to the Mandinka lands, leaving his mother Sologon in the Mema kingdom. When he arrived back in his lands Sundiata and his griot were reunited with Sundiata’s one and only childhood friend, Manding Bakary...”  
Ayitashe continued on talking, telling how Sundiata teamed up with three other kings of neighboring kingdoms and befriended them. Telling of sweeping blades through entire forests and punching holes into mountains-- of how Sundiata and his half-sister managed to outsmart Soumaoro in his own hut of bones and on the battlefield. And then finally, she told of how Sundiata charged after Soumaoro with hair standing out like the mane of a lion and caught the sorcerer as he tried to transform into a snake and slither away. And then, without much hesitance, she told the group of listeners who were on the edge of their seats of how Sundiata beheaded the serpent shifter and ground his head into the dirt before throwing his serpentine body to his daemon to consume.  
“And that is how Sundiata defeated Mali’s greatest enemy and became… The Lion King.” The story was finished with a dramatic pause and a long exhale. Adenah, Alfred and Matthew, and Lucian’s jaws had all dropped and hung slack in awe. In the silence that followed only Adenah moved, raising her hands to clap at the performance that Ayitashe had put on with her storytelling. The noise startled a couple of them out of their trances and in the end,Lovino followed suit and in turn then Feliciano. Lucian looked at them curiously for a couple seconds before looking back to Emilian; he gave a couple polite claps which his younger brother copied.  
The traders aboard the ship watched as the town children and their accompany party members froze upon the chime of a clock. There was silence as they sat and listened to the chimes upon the hour and a quick rush of movement once they had determined what time it was. They had certainly been there listening to Ayitashe longer than they thought they had been. Combined with their trip to see Sadık and the small chunk of time they’d simply spent hanging out prior to all of this and they’d been out and about for quite a while. They all gave, in turn, their thanks to Ayitashe for the stories and her time to which she replied she had been happy to spend it recounting tales to them. In the end they gave Gupta, who they found on deck, their goodbyes and Herakles promised he’d be back around soon-- on his own, he insisted as he gave his friends and family pointed looks.  
They evacuated the boat with a sparse amount of waves farewell to the travelers who watched them go and after a short debate on who was going where the group made a decision. Julchen would be leaving to head back into town and formally invited Elizaveta and Adenah to come with her. After a strange moment of eye contact between Emilian and Elizaveta, the young woman denied the request and said that she would stay around a bit longer to say hello to Io Vargas. Adenah responded likewise but curtly apologized to Julchen about denying her offer.  
And so Julchen departed after a final goodbye to Feliciano and Herakles and giving Matthew and Alfred an acknowledgement, saying it was nice to meet them and that she hoped she’d see them sometime again. The words felt empty; sincerity was lacking. Matthew appreciated the thought. The group didn’t stop to watch Julchen go and instead kept on walking, Herakles walking with Emilian and Elizaveta in the back while Adenah joined the twins up front with Lucian and the two college boys. When they arrived at the house Adelphos alerted Io that they had arrived and Michelangelo was hot on the case, rip roaring out of the house to meet the group approaching with a loud shout from his mother ringing out behind him.  
“Hera! You brought them-- Emil, Luc!” It was in that moment that Matthew realized Emily and Luke must’ve been Emillian and Lucian. Hell, he’d forgotten to keep his promise to Micha. Elizaveta made a teasing comment about chopped up liver to Micha who was quick to greet her after the remark was made, rushing up to give the woman a hug as Io came out of the house after her son.  
“Michelangelo, you don’t go running out of the house now-- you hear me, boy? I don’t care how excited you are!” Micha winced only slightly at his mother’s harsh tone as he moved behind Lucian slightly to hide from her stern glare.  
“Yeah, you best listen to your mum-- Wouldn’t want you to get snatched up by the goblins, right?” Io seemed only slightly taken back by Emilian’s words but said nothing before Micha let out a fearful gasp and nodded rapidly in agreement. Elizaveta scowled and clucked her tongue at Emilian who merely gave a poorly suppressed grin and shrugged his shoulders at her. Io shook her head and sighed as she let Micha come running back to her side to clutch at her hip.  
“Emilian and Lucian, Elizaveta, it’s good to see you. You as well Adenah Ackerman, you’re looking well off… Come in, come in all of you. Matthew, Alfred, you two too, of course.” The group slowly filed one after the other into the house, Alfred and Matthew bringing up the rear of the line.  
“What brings this visit? Not that I’m not glad to see you all, but I would think you would be busy with work, you especially Emilian. Is your father still running the tinker shop; has the church finally shut him down?” Io started speaking and Adelphos finished for her while she was scooped up Michelangelo with her usual practiced ease. Given that Micha was certainly past the age of being carried, it was a wonder how she managed at times. Emilian and his own younger charge had taken a seat at the kitchen table, Elizaveta and Adenah following close behind and sorting themselves out. Lovino and Feliciano both ended up in the same chair at the end of the table.  
"Ah... Well, I'd like to say that 'm on break. Father is still running the shop, yes, but business has been tighter than usual. We'd all be right to blame the church I'd bet." This was confessed in a weary tone, Emilian running his hand back through his hair before rubbing at the nape of his neck. Io clucked her tongue in the barest hint of disapproval, leaning back against the countertop as she bounced Michelangelo on her hip. Adenah toyed absently with her hair, a single black lock twining and twisting around her finger like a serpent.  
"Best blessings to you, Emil." Io finally added, her green eyes hooded with a strange tiredness. Herakles, who had seated himself at the opposite end of the table from his brothers, picked mindlessly at his jaw before speaking in his turn. He started hesitantly before picking up momentum and going strong.  
"This subject... It probably isn't the best table talk. You know they keep little yellow birds to listen to everything. Let's talk about something else. Like... Like how Emilian needs to wash his hair." The reaction was immediate. Elizaveta’s body lurched roughly and abruptly as she barely held back a bark of laughter; the look of mortification that raced over Emilian’s face was complemented by the shock on his brother’s. Io’s hand brought swift justice as it knocked upside Herakles’ head but the young man’s persisting smile, even as he lowered his head, showed that the blow did little to deter his humor over his own snip at the elder Petulengro brother.  
“Herakles, you rotten little boy. Emilian does his best hygiene wise. I’m sure.” The hesitant pause that Io took as she inspected Emilian’s dismal locks from afar had the Romani man slamming his elbows into the tabletop as he hid his face in his hands. Constanta chirped at him in panic, trying to soothe his injured pride while Elizaveta howled in unrestrained amusement, Andrei’s braying joining her while Ruxandra released a hissing growl of shared anger at the teasing of Lucian’s older brother.  
“Oh, Hera, Miss Vargas, leave poor ol’ Emilian alone. He’s practically partrified.” This was Adenah loing at the two Grecians, having stopped her hair twirling in favor of placing both hands flat on the table as she leaned forward for emphasis. Feliciano and Lovino were trying their best not to snicker at Emilian’s horror and embarrassment but even the most good natured of us all can have a wicked sense of humor. Elizaveta finally managed to speak through her guffawing, breath coming in rapid inhales and wheezed exhales as she clapped Emilian roughly on the back two times between tears.  
“It’s fine isn’t it, Petulengro? We’re just a lot of street rats! Your various levels of grease and oil, as unappealing as they are, perfectly normal. Your grime, is mine grime!” And with that she wiped her hand off pointedly on her pants, grin broad and face blotted pink. Io had come over now, one hand reaching out to rub strands of Emilian’s hair between her fingers critically. Judging by her displeased expression she found that it certainly was true. Emilian was in need of a good wash. It was at that time that Michelangelo, in an attempt to mirror his mother’s actions, grabbed a fistful of Emilian’s hair and tugged on it roughly but with good intentions. Constanta gave a squeal of a word that Selvaggio squawked back at her in excitement-- that of which got Micha a sharp look from Io that silenced the boy’s giggling and his daemons gleeful shrieks.  
Emilian had sat up now, revealing his burning face to the audience of individuals present. Scowling at Herakles whom only grinned back cheekily, the brunet swatted away Elizaveta and Io’s lingering hands and stood. Lucian kicked his feet anxiously from his chair and watched after his brother who was grabbed gently but firmly by Io, snagging him by his shoulder.  
“Emilian, I insist you take a bath.”  
“Miss, I appreciate you real much but I’m not--”  
“Now, please.” Elizaveta was back to laughing, borderline hysterical and losing her ability to breath at this point, her fist banging against the wooden table as she hunched over it. Adenah looked after Emilian sympathetically, hands clasped in front of her chest in a saintly manner as she tutted her tongue in disapproval at the whole thing. Alfred and Matthew could hardly process what they were seeing. This was a mess in their eyes. Sure, Emilian was rather grubby, but compared to them-- the two boys of the college? Everything was rather grubby in their eyes when it came to the town. That was what they liked about it, really.  
“Y… Yes, ma’am.” Lucian frowned now, making a motion to slide out of his chair and go after his brother only to be waved off by the elder. Ruxandra whined after Constanta, lifting her furry head off the floor to watch as the polecat went off after Emilian. To the bathroom in the back of the house they went, Io hovering behind them as Adelphos watched the remaining children left in the kitchen. It was then that the once poor suppressed giggles of the Vargas twins was released, much to the bull daemon’s displeasure, and Herakles’ own bubbling laughter overflowed. Alfred turned to Matthew now, eyebrows arches up high and mouth twisted in questioning. Matthew’s own brow was knit and a frown in place.  
“That was kind of mean…” Alfred finally muttered, watching as Adenah stood and walked away from the table to sit closer to the two blonds rather than the other table occupants. Matthew waved at her vaguely to whom she nodded back to him, pouted lips pulled into an equally pouted frown.  
“They didn’t have to be so cruel ta ‘im.” Adenah noted to the two boys, arms folded across her bosom as she pulled her knees carefully up to her chest. Not that it mattered much with her bloomers under her dress skirt; for modesty all the same. Alfred rolled his shoulders and pushed his weight down harder on the heels of his hands as Lysimanche preened at his hair carefully in the form of a hawk.  
"Agreed... Adenah Ackerman, right?"  
"That'd be m'name, Mister Alfred Kirkland." Adenah carefully formed Alfred's name, pinks lips pushed out minutely as she mocked him lightly over his status above every individual in the household. The tease went over the boy's head. Matthew caught it for him instead.  
"You're a rather hushed woman. You don't speak much, do you? You and Matthew are both quiet." Adenah's gaze flit to the mentioned blond before returning to Alfred as she cocked her head and blinked dollishly. Alfred returned the tilt of the head but rather squinted at her than blinked.  
"I talk lots, Alfred. Just not in front of you s'all." A quaint little smile much like a smirk was given after these words were uttered and Alfred bumbled over himself, half in confusion and half in insult. Matthew leaned forward and shifted to sit on his feet as Ottium flicked his ears back and then forward again.  
“R… Right. Okay, well, you should talk more then-- In front of me that is.”  
“Why’s that?” The quip back once more caught Alfred off guard as Adenah’s play went right over his head once more. Matthew snickered a bit at it and made brief eye contact with the girl as she looked his way and smiled at him. Alfred’s blond brow furrowed as he rubbed the tip of his nose against the back of his hand and frowned.  
“Because… Because I said so?...”  
“You do say so.” With that said Adenah looked away from Alfred with her lips pulled into a serene smile, but a betraying glitter in her eyes that Matthew couldn’t help but note. Alfred was slack jawed, turning to his companion for guidance only for her to give him a distressed and confused look. It was then he looked to Matthew who shrugged faintly. Quite suddenly, Feliciano chimed up to his brother and the three other kids.  
“Hey, we should go on the roof! Come on, come on, let’s go.” Adenah was on her feet fastest to follow Feliciano, Abrax taking wing off her shoulder as he mimicked Feliciano’s last sentence. Lia yapped at him to stop, voice shrilling with a whine to which Abrax gave a high pitched laughing akin to a cackle. Lovino was up next, on the tail of Adenah’s dress hem with a call of ‘Wait up!’-- Alfred grabbed Matthew by the shoulder and yanked him up only to go darting after the others without him. Elizaveta and Herakles stopped their conversation to watch the younger kids all go running to clamber to the rooftop. Lucian stayed behind, having climbed onto Elizaveta’s lap to sit on her knee and the woman had no qualms with this. Micha must have still been with Io and Emilian, wherever they had gone to. The bathroom, Matthew could guess solidly. Grabbing an apple out of the basket on the kitchen counter the Bonnefoy child finally made way to go after the others, taking his sweet time to do so.  
The distinct sounds of roof tiles being shifted and laughter rang out from above; the clear blue of the sky and the warmth from the sun was just enough to lift any threats of sadness away. The pathway to the top of the house was actually old crates and the top of a stone wall. The roof of the house next to the Vargas’ left a narrow opening that one had to stick their arms through first to pull their body onto the tiles like one might drag themselves out of a river. It was sometimes quite the feat and all of them were grateful that they were more length than width. It would’ve made trying to get through the opening difficult. One could suppose that the kids could have set up the crates on the other side of the house where there was no neighbor to be heard of, but in the end it just wasn’t so.  
Matthew made quick work of scaling up the teetering boxes and putting his foot into the designated groove on the stone wall, apple clamped into place by his front teeth as he kept his hands free to pull himself up onto the roof. Once he had managed he was greeted by the other who had already taken their seats on the slanted top of the house. Waving wordlessly to them now that he had arrived, Matthew scooted himself carefully over to sit by Alfred again. Ottium lept onto the roof a little bit later, having succeeded in making it up on his own in the form of a common tabby pelted feline.  
“You’ve already missed the fun, Matthew, we were just talking about you.” Lovino offered this snidely, smiling at the youngest child all the same as he spoke. Feliciano cracked a matching smile and nudged his brother, eyes narrowed as he shook his head and laughed.  
“Hey, don’t tease him like that. We were talking about you though!” Alfred looked the twins over blankly before moving his gaze to eye Matthew thoughtfully. Lysimanche ruffled her feathers, wings catching on the slight breeze passing by before she carelessly took flight and easily glided up into the air above the group. Matthew watched her as she went, chewing in silence as he rotated the apple in his grip.  
“You’re the youngest here, you know. You’re only a little older than Micha.” Alfred finally spoke after seeming to get lost in thought, likely merely being distracted by Lysimanche’s train of thought at the moment. Adenah patted her lap and looked skyward as well as Abrax flew up to join Lysimanche in her acrobatics. Lia and Letiza had been forced to stay on the ground due to being too big and in too inconvenient a form to get on the roof any longer.  
“What is your point? Is there something wrong with me being young?” Alfred shrugged Matthew’s question off and looked away in nonchalance that made the younger blond’s skin prickle with aggravation. Feliciano let out a non-committed sound much like a prolonged ‘eh’ while Lovino snickered at him.  
“Well, you’re like the baby. You’re just a kid and the rest of us are like the adults. Except Alfred. Alfred hasn’t even settled yet!” This jolted the Kirkland boy out of his apathy as he swung to look at Lovino through squinted eyes, mouth pulled into that classic look of insult. Matthew pursed his lips and contemplated whether it would be worth it to lob his apple at Lovino’s face or not before deciding against it despite Ottium silently egging him on.  
“You’re settled or something? Is that why they couldn’t come up here? What use is that? Lysimanche is twice as good as your daemons combined because she isn’t settled. So buzz off, you jerk.”  
“Ah, Alfred, don’t be so hasty with your words like that! Lovino wasn’t try to insult you--”  
“Like Hell I wasn’t trying to insult him! Don’t be an idiot, Alfred-- your answer shows your immaturity.” There was a bristle in the atmosphere and a clear bone rattling growl could be heard from below. Letiza no doubt. Adenah scowled, a rare look from her, as she looked between the boys and then huffily tossed her head with disinterest in the fight.  
“What is it about settling with you people anyways? Your daemon is limited. Why would I want Lysimanche to be like that? Get a grip, Vargas, you’re the one being irrational.” Feliciano butted between the two, creating a physical barrier in case Alfred pushed the wrong button and his twin went into a rage. Nobody needed to get pushed off the roof to make a point. Lysimanche sensed the sudden unrest after a moment and came swooping down, leaving Abrax alone to perform loops in the sky as she landed clumsily on the roof before forming to the better suited form of a lizard in order to keep a grip on the surface. Lovino eyed the daemon in the barest starts of contempt as she opened her mouth and hissed at him threateningly. Alfred’s face remained a look of steeled anger.  
“See?”  
“Well since you’re not settled you can’t do adult things, so it doesn’t matter whether she can change forms or not.” This caught Alfred off guard as his face drew into insult again, lips pulling back even further than before as his brow furrowed something fierce.  
“Adult things, like what.” Feliciano was getting upset now and Matthew had already been discarded as the topic of the conversation and had rather opted to sit back and observe the situation and finish his apple before he decided to comment.  
“You two are being ridiculous. Cut it out! Lovino, you know Letiza only just settled so don’t get so cocky about it!” And a punch to the arm was delivered which Lovino returned right back to his brother with a sneer to try and hide his embarrassment over the truth. His brother was right. He couldn’t argue that. Adenah finally looked back over now, mouth quirked in disapproval as she let loose a sigh.  
“If ya ask me, Matthew is more mature-er than all of you all combined. You’d do best to be taking tips from him on how to be a proper adult and he’s just a baby.” Matthew sat up at this, his feelings rather mixed on Adenah’s words. She had complimented him but also referred to him in the same slightly derogative way that Lovino had. As a baby. A child. Which Matthew knew he was but at the same time... To be called such by people only a handful of years older than he-- it felt off. Muttering an unsure thanks under his breath the boy let go of his apple core to let it slide down the roof tiles and bounce down to the stones below.  
“Adenah Ackerman is right.” Feliciano agreed surely, shooting a stern look between Alfred and Lovino as he folded his arms across his chest tightly.  
“He’s still the youngest no matter what.” Lovino butted in one more before continuing. “And I bet Alfred hasn’t even kissed anyone yet.” Feliciano rolled his eyes in exasperation as he looked to Matthew with a twinge of desperation. Adenah was quick to the whip, her words stinging just as bad as if Lovino had been struck by one.  
“And nobody is gonna want ta kiss you if ya keep bein’ so mean and nasty, Lovino Vargas.” The words hit harder than either Alfred or Matthew had expected. The clear chagrin that had engulfed Lovino’s features and body language spoke volumes as he spluttered to try and say something to Adenah on the matter. She was hearing none of it and rather turned her nose up at him. Feliciano stared in an awe struck stupor at the weight of the words that had been spoken.  
“Besides, I don’t need anybody to… kiss. It is irrelevant to my current interests.” The hesitance before ‘kiss’ double crossed Alfred’s words as he shook his head and held out his arm for Lysimanche to crawl up.  
“What kind of current interests do you have that don’t involve kissing?” This question came from Feliciano, who gave Alfred an estranged look upon the blond’s declaration. “Not that it’s important but…”  
“The important kinds of interests that don’t involve you.” The snap back made the younger Vargas twin recoil as if he had been swung at, the mood clearly not getting any better now that Alfred had been put in a sour state of mind by Lovino’s simple jeer. Matthew finally spoke up at this point, getting up and striding carefully but smoothly across the roof’s surface.  
“You have all absolutely ruined the atmosphere. When you get over yourselves, feel free to tell me when.” Then, with a simple hop across the divide between the houses, Matthew and Ottium landed on the roof next to the Vargas’. There was a stunned huff of disapproval from Alfred as he turned on the spot to stare after his younger friend as the boy took a seat with his back to the others and stared up at the clouds in the sky.  
“Matthew you can’t be serious. You can’t just walk off like that. It’s not… Matthew, are you listening to me?” A solid silence was what answered Alfred’s inquiry as he stared at the back of Matthew’s head. Feliciano said nothing as he looked between Alfred and Matthew, ignoring whatever conversation Lovino was trying to have with Adenah about what she had said to him earlier. Ottium cast a green eyed glance back to Alfred before curtly turning away and dragging his paw across his face.  
While Alfred shifted to sit on his knees, Feliciano stood and carefully paced himself as he moved to join Matthew on the other rooftop. Lia called from below nervously telling him to watch his step, Letiza casually bapping her upside the head for her worrying as Lovino turned to look after his twin mid-sentence. The boy made it across the divide easily and took a seat by Matthew who spared him a quick side glance before going back to looking up at the sky. Adenah was next in line, picking up her skirts to hold them in a bunch on her legs, clasping them shut with one hand. She waved goodbye to Lovino whose jaw went slack at the fact she was going to walk off. Abrax swooped down at this point and landed gracefully on Adenah’s outstretched hand with a call to Lovino that he needed to ‘sort it out’ with Alfred.  
With the three of five gone to the other roof, Lovino and Alfred were effectively left alone together on the Varags’ roof. While Lovino cautiously approached Alfred, Adenah took her seat next to Feliciano and sighed loudly and exaggeratedly.  
“What a waste’a time, huh? Well at least they’ll have ta figure this one out on their own. Good thinkin’ on your part, Matthew. You’re really the smart one.” Matthew finally shifted his view to meet Adenah’s gaze upon being complimented on his actions, blinking blankly at her smile. Feliciano nodded along, finally having found something to speak upon.  
“Yeah-- Lovino doens’t know what he’s talking about if he’s going to take someone as bright as you for granted just because you’re younger. In fact, that’s even more the reason to respect you! I’m sorry he caused all this trouble. You know him.” Feliciano’s apology on behalf of his twin was cast aside with a simple shake of the head as Matthew pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees.  
“It is not anything you need to apologize about, Feliciano. We just have to wait until they settle this no matter how begrudgingly so they do it.” The vaguest look of befuddlement crossed the two town children’s face as they tried to process the unfamiliar word that Matthew had just used, drudging through the context clues to decipher its definition. Matthew noted it but said nothing on the matter. It took a grand total of perhaps ten minutes with a couple shouts from behind the separated children before Alfred and Lovino both called back to Matthew, Adenah, and Feliciano telling them they could come back over. Matthew was the last to stand, picking up Ottium and cradling the primate formed daemon to his chest.  
Alfred appeared to be rather dejected, shoulders slumped down and line of sight lowered as he seemed to avoid making eye contact with anybody. Lysimanche sat in a lethargic state upon Alfred’s legs which were brought together and lay extended out slightly to his side. Lovino sat in a similar state, hugging his legs to his chest and staring out at the divide. With his lack of daemon accompanying him, the Vargas’ boy was a living image of surrealism. Feliciano sat by his twin, gently resting his head against his brother’s shoulder, and somewhere below them a great bellow of laughter erupted that startled them just the slightest. Adenah gingerly took a seat as well, at a midpoint between where Alfred was seated and the twins. Matthew in the end sat by Alfred again, curiously inspecting him.  
“See, now isn’t this much better? Hm? Now we can all talk ‘bout somethin’ that don’t make nobody upset. Like them people from the boats.” The topic presented by Adenah was something that was better than moping in the strange atmosphere that had been created by Lovino and Alfred accepting their own faults and Abrax brayed out the mimicking call, copying Adenah’s voice to a point as he did so. From down below Letiza barked up at Abrax and then to Lovino, attempting to convince the boy to cheer up one could suspect. The words she was speaking were incoherent to any other’s ears aside from perhaps Feliciano.  
“I thought they were interesting people. Especially the storyteller. Ayitashe… I think.” Matthew was the first to respond to the new conversation prompt. Ottium was sitting on the back of his shoulder and picking through his hair absently as he sat thinking back in a moment of silence. Yes, her name had been Ayitashe. The other had been Anahita. Two ‘A’ name, certainly gets confusing.  
“She was really dark skinned.” This comment, stating the obvious, was muttered by none other than Lysimanche who had decided to join the conversation despite Alfred grumbling under his breath about it. Adenah nodded, surveying the daemon with intrigue. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to make actual conversation with someone else’s daemon.  
“She was wasn’ she? It was kind of…”  
“Cool!” Abrax finished for his companion, voice coming out shrill when he warbled his answer.  
“I liked the story about the hippo, personally.” Feliciano interjected, head still resting against Lovino’s shoulder. “And Anahita was super pretty!” He slapped onto the end of his sentence. Adenah snickered slightly at this comment on the appearance of the trader’s leader.  
“Her hair looked like a wig.” Lysimanche once more input her two cents on the subject causing the others to look at her in alarm, not having thought at all to note such a thing about the woman’s impressive locks of hair. Ottium scowled at the careless words uttered by Lysimanche and chattered at her wordlessly to which she stuck her tongue out. Lovino let out a puff of air and moved to rest his cheek against his brother’s head in silence.  
“She was pretty either way. That Sadik man was handsome too.” Lovino muttered this to the others earning a nod from Adenah who sighed wistfully and a soft laugh from Feliciano as he sat up slowly and nudged his shoulder against his twin’s.  
“Did you think that even when you started to cry about him touching you?”  
“Hey! Don’t bring stuff like that up, okay? I… I was just overwhelmed is all…”  
“It’s okay, sorry, I just thought it was funny.” Adenah butted in at this point, smiling slyly as she leaned forward minutely and planted her hands on the surface of the roof top to keep herself from tumbling forward if she leaned too far forward on the incline.  
“Did ya think he was pretty as well, Feliciano, what with kickin’ ‘im in the leg like that?”  
“Eh!? I panicked, okay? Lovino was upset so I stepped in.” All that was given in response was laughter as Adenah leaned back and shook her head, dark hair swinging as she did so. Matthew even managed to crack a smile at this. The twins’ behavior had certainly not given away their true feelings about the native turned traveler. Crying and kicking-- not the best way to show you found someone attractive. Lysimanche decided to open her mouth again now, tone showing her displeasure.  
“He is a guy though. You fancy him or something? Even as a guy?” The question completely caught the brothers off guard and even made Matthew raise an eyebrow although Adenah stopped and seemed to think over it as if debating something internally.  
“Well, why not? Mama always said as the heart wants--”  
“But you’re both guys.” This time it was Alfred who said this, brow furrowed as he insistently stared down at his feet. His voice came out soft, a bit confused even. Feliciano just shrugged his shoulders in unison with Lovino as Adenah hesitantly nodded along with them.  
“I think you can find a lot of things attractive. It does not necessarily mean anything. It is simply aesthetic.” Matthew added this in the end which finally prompted Alfred to look up, making eye contact with his friend briefly before looking off at the horizon.  
“Then I say I find him... aestheticalcly… Aesthetically. Pleasing. That’s the term, right?” Feliciano turned to Matthew upon firing his inquiry out into the open air, brow drawn together in thought. A nod gave him the affirmation he needed to regain his confidence on the matter. The conversation carried on even with Alfred’s not entirely unheard of opinion on the prior discussion about who and whom was attractive, Adenah commenting on how she was excited to see what Emilian looked like when he wasn’t covered in a thick layer of dirt. Lovino was quick to quip at her about how saying such a thing was no better than what the others had said earlier, a call of quackery being pinned to the girl. She waved it off and merely laughed at Lovino as he mumbled over the injustice.  
It was a while, the sun starting to slide down the opposite side of the sky, before Io’s voice conjoined with Adelphos’ bellowed for the children to get down off the roof and come back inside. The command was followed in haste, the twins making their way down first to meet up with their daemons after the long time having been separated. Adenah was down next, hopping down a short distance to have Lovino catch her and then settle her on her feet. Feliciano, having watched the scene unfold, tried to offer his help to Matthew as the youngest party member came clamoring down but had his offer politely turned down. Alfred went down last with Lysimanche alighted upon his shoulder in the form of some sharp taloned avian of sorts.  
Once back in the house the group was met by the sight of a very clean looking Emilian and Io leading Lucian out of the bathroom clad in clothes that most likely belonged to Micha from the looks of them. Elizaveta was still bothering Emilian about his new state of cleanliness, rubbing strands of hair between her fingers in mock awe as they squeaked with the pressure. He occasionally bat at her hands with scowls and complaints while Herakles watched the two of them drowsily, cheek in hand and elbow on the table top. Lucian rushed over to join his brother, hopping up into the man's lap and reaching out to tug Elizaveta's hair in retaliation.  
"Alright, all of you, don't start squabbling. I'm going to start preparing lunch soon so all of you need to get out of the kitchen-- sit someplace else." Yanking her hair back from Lucian's grip and standing up with a bump to Emilian's shoulder, Elizaveta was the first away from the table and going to the living area with Adenah following close behind. Herakles jumped up next, surprisingly energetic at the mention of food to come. Lovino and Feliciano went next to go sit with their older brother while Matthew and Alfred slowly meandered their way over. Once they were all seated, Michelangelo joining the pile, there was a prolonged pause as Lovino stared at Emilian in confusion. Once Emilian caught his staring he arched an eyebrow up and spoke.  
"What's with the look, Vargas?" Lovino jolted slightly at being called out on his staring but recovered rapidly, sniffing indignantly and clearing his throat.  
"Why are you wearing my dad's clothes?" The inquiry was blunt, holding a near monotonous tone, and was heard very clearly by Io as she worked in the kitchen space not far enough from the group that she couldn't hear them. Thus she answered in Emilian's stead, back to the group as she reached for something in the cabinets.  
"His clothes were near to ruins, Lovino. He had nothing decent to wear so I gave him something." Lovino made a face at this news but nodded to himself either way, looking to Feliciano who shrugged in return. Elizaveta, keeping her voice low as she did so, murmured to Emilian just loud enough the others could hear as she spoke.  
"You know when you're clean and actually dressed like a proper man you don't look half bad, Emil." With a noise of insult and a reel back away from the woman, Emilian spluttered to try and retort but to no avail as the others snickered. A warning grunt was heard from Io which silenced her children at least while Adenah tutted her tongue softly and Lucian pat at his own new clothing. In the meantime, Alfred had finally gotten Matthew to speak to him properly again. He had won rather simply by butting his arm against Matthew’s and muttering a very hesitant apology, a sincere apology, for his behavior earlier. Matthew had accepted it genuinely this time and the disagreement had passed by.  
“You know, lately, I have been thinking about that thing… Matthew, do you often have odd dreams?” Alfred’s voice was lowered as if he intended to keep his conversation with his companion quiet, although his line of sight was not trained on Matthew but rather his nails where he was currently picking out unidentifiable grit. Matthew’s own attention was momentarily caught by Ottium as the daemon turned into a black footed weasel and went to bother Lia and Letiza. He turned back to Alfred, staring at him intently as he considered his answer. His own dreams definitely had been less ominous than Alfred’s. Or, at least, he thought so. Alfred could be quite easy to spook so Matthew was unsure as to what constituted a nightmare for his friend. Pulling his hair back with his hands the boy sighed through his nose.  
“Odd dreams… I do not think so, no. Not often. Alfred, you never did tell me what it is that jolts you out of your dreams. Is it something very terrible?” Alfred’s aversion to answer this question lasted out over a prolonged pause as he shifted in place and wrung his wrists, an unintentional smile stretching over his face before the lie even slipped off his tongue. When Matthew’s eyes narrowed and lips pursed the older boy bit back the lie and swallowed it with a huff of defeat.  
“It’s… It’s hard to explain. So you do have strange dreams though?” Matthew shrugged, a bit upset that even now Alfred was willing to share the exact details. With a silent snap from Ottium, Matthew made a split second decision.  
“Can you at least make an attempt to tell me?” The persistence surprised Alfred who had expected Matthew to merely drop it at Alfred’s weak excuse. It was then that one of the others cleared their throat, winning the attention of the college boys.  
“What’re you two talking about? Dreams? You know, our mo--”  
“Mother is an expert on dreams.” Io finished Lovino’s sentence for him, surprising the group as she loomed behind them with a surprisingly excited smile in place on her face. It appeared that whatever she was cooking was being boiled, or perhaps stewed, and warranted her time to intrude on the children's’ talk. Dropping to take a seat a seat with them, Io crossed her legs from within the confines of her dress skirt and rested her elbows on her knees. Lovino blinked owlishly at her, mouth minutely agape before he closed it properly and nodded to confirm what his dear mother had said. Feliciano sat forward, a look of similar excitement shining on his face and Herakles appeared to roll his eyes minutely but the suppression of a smile was evident.  
“An expert on dreams? Really? Missus Io Vargas, I’da never known somethin’ like that.” Adenah added in, looking upon the grown woman before her whose expression seemed to de-age her several years. She could have very well been Elizaveta’s age with how youthful her elation and enthusiasm made her appear.  
“Of course! It’s a special gift in the family. I was half hoping that I would have had a daughter to teach the skill to… But it seems it just wasn’t to be!” And Io paused to reach over and ruffle one of her son’s hair, Herakles being the target of such ‘offense’ as he gave a soft noise of complaint and ducked away. “Who knows, Adenah, maybe if you so choose so I’ll teach it to you one day. But now, Alfred and Matthew-- what’s this about?” Io turned her attention to them now, eyebrows arched inquisitively and the corners of her lips curled with a poorly constrained fervor. There was even that twinkle in her eyes, something Matthew had seen when Feliciano talked about pursuing a path with the arts. So that was where he had gotten in from.  
“Well. I’ve just been having these strange reoccurring nightmares… It’s almost always the same thing every time-- but wait. What exactly do you mean by being an expert in dreams, Madame Vargas?” Alfred seemed skeptical, if not involuntarily so. He knew he could trust Io but the idea of being an expert in something as whimsical as dreams when Alfred himself was surrounded by experts of real and absolute crafts brought doubt forth. Io merely snapped her fingers, jabbing her extender pointer in Alfred’s direction as her green gaze narrowed with the impossible extension of her grin. Matthew seemed interested to hear her answer, having a vague idea of what she meant by this insinuation.  
“Alfred, I will tell you what I mean. I read dreams you see? You tell me all the parts of your dream you can remember and I’ll decipher the meaning. It’s a special skill that has been passed along my line of the family for generations. My mother taught me and her mother taught her.” Emilian butted in now, awe plastered across his features as he cocked his head and gawked at Io. Elizaveta had her eyes on Emilian, seeming to be perplexed as to why he was reacting to this information in such a way.  
“You do divination? With dreams?” The word divination made little sense to Matthew as he rolled it over in his head and even consulted Ottium on it, hoping if he had forgotten the word then maybe Ottium knew it. No such luck. The word was entirely foreign. From the hushed manner Emilian said it, Matthew could only guess it was something… Something he didn’t really have a word to describe. Io merely answered him with a wink.  
“Oh, missus Io Vargas, that kind of stuff is mighty dangerous. Why-- what if the church found out about somethin’ like that?” Adenah expressed concerned, clutching Abrax to her bosom as she fret at his feathers. Io laughed. She actually laughed at Adenah, and with a dismissive wave of her hand she shook her head.  
“The church can go cry itself to sleep. They like to think that they make the rules when there have been countless people, countless gods, to come before them.” The statement seemed to unhinged Adenah and Elizaveta as they blankly stared at Io. Herakles didn’t comment, instead looking off the window where Adelphos was watching in seeming silence. Feliciano even seemed to fidget in discomfort at his mother’s words, an unintended mutter about Julchen spouting from Lia’s maw before she pawed at her muzzle and went silent again. Lovino merely nodded in agreement to his Io’s words, smiling proudly at her sureness.  
“Huh…” This was all Alfred offered in response, face revealing nothing as he studied Io for a measure of time. Matthew finally nudged him, eager to see what Io would have to say about Alfred’s dreams if not keen to hear at last what had been troubling Alfred these long months.  
“Go ahead then, Alfred. We’re all interested to hear I’m sure.” Alfred uttered not a single word, and Matthew was quick to catch on to the tense of muscle and widening of eyes. He was looking straight through Io, if not right past her. At something. Clenching his eyes shut and letting his fingernails dig in the alms of his hands, Alfred took a deep calming breath to steady himself. Matthew could only watch. He didn’t want to follow Alfred’s gaze. He didn’t want to confirm that Alfred had once more seen that strange grinning ghoul again, for deep down Matthew knew he had. It’s golden eyed appearance no longer quite so horrified Alfred now that he had accepted its physical existence outside of his dreams. Not to say it did not deeply unsettle the both of the boys. Quite the opposite.  
And so Alfred spoke of his dreams, the cliff side and the nails at his side and the hushed voice in his ear. The gradual disappearance and disconnection of Lysimanche and the turbulent sea beneath him. He left out the ominous message and the tears of fear, the times he had felt ice down the back of his neck or other strange invasions of his personal space. He neglected to mention the times he was awoken by the feeling of foreign hands clutching violently at the skin of his daemon. He knew that Matthew would pick up these exclusions but Alfred didn’t care.  
Io listened intently as did Emilian, and they made it clear that they were. Lucian seemed intrigued as well, and Elizaveta did poorly to mask her interest the more Alfred spoke. Lovino and Feliciano stared at Alfred with mirrored looks of estrangement, as if Alfred had suddenly sprouted horns or a third eye. By the time Alfred had finished speaking, having played up the events a little bit as he soaked up the attention he was receiving, Io was being called back to the kitchen by Adelphos warning her she would ruin the endives if she let them boil any longer. She was quick to hop up, getting caught in her own dress slightly before righting her clothing and scurrying off to dish out what could now be identified as lunch.  
The meal went smoothly, despite a spot of complaint from Feliciano and Michelangelo at the prospect of consuming the boiled greens. Alfred ate in silence while Matthew peered curiously at Lucian and Emilian. He noted that Emilian ate little, giving the rest of his meal to Lucian who seemed all but near too eager to eat his meal despite it being a relatively simple and mildly flavored dish. Elizaveta as well observed the spectacle, a stern expression taking over her face as she considered Emilian. Matthew and she briefly made eye contact. Neither said anything to the other. Io ate the dregs out of the pot without complaint and sat on the counter by the window as Adelphos stretched to push his head through the opening and nuzzle her face with his nose. It was not often that any of them saw Io and her own daemon actually interact in such affectionate manners and the gesture brought out a giggle from the twins and their daemons while Micha discontentedly chewed away at his food, trying to give the boiled endives to Selvaggia to eat instead of having to experience it firsthand.  
At last Io led Alfred away from the others briefly to speak to him privately about the results she had concluded from the news of his dreams, leaving the others to converse sparingly. The boy eventually returned and grabbed Matthew by the arm, tugging him forcefully and claiming they had to leave. It was getting late and they needed to return back home. Io watched after him knowingly, an unreadable expression presented outwardly as the others watched on in confusion at Alfred’s stiff jerky movements and sudden out of place behavior. Matthew yanked his arm from Alfred’s harsh grip and frowned in disapproval, looking back to Feliciano and Lovino, and Adenah whom he had been talking to. Feliciano gave a shrug and Lovino merely glared at Alfred. With a hasty goodbye given as Alfred seemed to storm out of the house with the abandon of a bat out of Hell, Matthew went rushing after the other with Ottium loping along at his side.  
“Alfred!” Matthew only managed to finally catch up with Alfred once they had made it all the way back to the college. The elder boy had refused to lessen his pace at all, if not going faster each time Matthew had called for him to slow down. When he finally stopped he was throwing the door of their room open and marching himself inside, going straight to bed. What a royal hissy fit he was throwing, Ottium remarked silently to Matthew. Even if the comment was humorously truthful Matthew refused to snicker outright at it. Alfred was upset and if he hoped to get anything out of the other boy Matthew would have to be understanding. Obviously something Io had told him had prompted such a reaction.  
Slowly lowering himself onto his own bed, Matthew laced his fingers together and regarded Alfred with exhaustion. He was just sitting there. Sitting there with his knees pulled up to his chest and his blue eyes glued to his feet. Even Lysimanche was forced to flutter awkwardly around Alfred’s head in the form of a little white butterfly, clearly unsure of how to aid her companion. Ottium’s tail lashed to and fro as he watched her and then looked to Matthew. You know asking him what’s wrong isn’t going to work, his gaze said. Matthew scowled back. Of course it won’t. He already knew that. No need to be snappy about it, was Ottium’s response as his ears flipped back in defensive aggression. This only made Matthew cross as he scoffed at Ottium for being insensitive about the situation. Ottium merely huffed haughtily and pointed out that in turn Matthew was being insensitive.  
“Alfred… What did Missus Io tell you? I get you are obviously displeased by whatever it is she told you, but you caused a ruckus with forcing us both to leave so suddenly. So now is not the time to be stubborn.” Matthew picked his words carefully, his eyes squinted to where he could partially make out his own eyelashes in his vision and brow furrowed. Alfred’s own blank and defaulted blue gaze painstakingly slowly slid to meet Matthew’s. There was silence. Matthew clenched his jaw at this and let his hands fall to the sheets as he fisted the fabric in his hands.  
“So you are willing to acknowledge what I said just so you cannot answer me? Alfred, please.” The anger in Matthew’s voice surprised even himself as he seemed to recoil slightly. Ottium merely laughed in his silence and congratulated Matthew on the accomplishment. When he had tapped down the aggravation the boy spoke again, letting his fingers uncurl from his blankets. “I can’t help you at all if you don’t talk to me.”  
“She didn’t know.” Alfred’s voice came out hoarse and ragged, almost as if he had screamed his throat raw, and it jolted up into a higher pitch repeatedly as if he were struggling to keep it leveled. Lysimanche settled on Alfred’s left shoulder quietly, not having shifted from her insect form. Matthew could only blink.  
“She didn’t know what?”  
“She didn’t know what it meant. She only told me that there was trouble afoot. She couldn’t tell me anything but that it was troubling. I-- I already knew that.” The stress placed on the word ‘knew’ brought out the true feelings of frustration that Alfred was experiencing. Matthew swallowed and licked his lips, feeling Ottium’s voice trying to peck into his thoughts.  
“Well… It was very cryptic. Your dream was strangely detailed but also somehow vague. And you know, Mister Francis always says--”  
“Some things are better left unknown.” Alfred finished it for Matthew, voice full of venom as he let his bitterness seep into the very core of his current being. “So what you’re saying is she may have lied to me.”  
“No, I did not say that.” Matthew’s tone edged back to irritation again as he tried to rationalize with Alfred. This rotten mood seemed to have started out of nowhere, coming forth like the waves of the ocean and receding back only to sweep forward again with more strength. It was annoying. Matthew was trying to search for some kind of resolution if not for Alfred’s own sake but the other boy seemed bent on being in a bad mood. He didn’t get it.  
“I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.” This was uttered sharply and with too much emphasis as Alfred got out of his bed to go change into his night clothes and wash his face and teeth. Matthew stared after him, his own bout of anger bubbling directly under the surface of his skin. He could feel it heating him up and he felt that if he were to smack Alfred right good and hard he might brand him with a mark of his misfortune. The little thought was morbidly amusing and Ottium carelessly advised him to go and do so. Alfred was being stupid, he deserved to get smacked. And Matthew almost did so, even standing up and taking a step forward to advance on Alfred while he had his back turned. Instead he grit his teeth harshly and took a moment to calm himself. He didn’t need to stir more trouble. Oh, but how he wanted to! Matthew had never felt such a strong urge to hit another human being in his life ever.  
But now as he considered it, Alfred had been in a terrible mood ever since Arthur had arrived here. Was this all Arthur’s fault? How could a single man make his own flesh and blood so bitter? The replay of Arthur’s sword driving at Alfred’s stomach flashed through Matthew’s head. That strike wasn’t going to land, he told himself. Arthur knew what he was doing, as did Sampson. That was why Sampson had been able to divert it. Arthur could have easily diverted it himself too, Matthew assured himself. For the benefit of the doubt. Lost in his own thought, Matthew was only jarred back to reality as Alfred yanked the curtains closed and plunged the room into near darkness save the soft light still filtering in through the gaps in the draping.  
Alfred didn’t spare Matthew a single backwards glance, although Lysimanche looked at him desperately in her new form of a small and meek looking mutt dog. Ottium turned his nose up at her, not so abashed about his feeling as Matthew was. Alfred went to his own bed and he stayed there, obstinately so Matthew presumed, and did not move a single muscle which was a sure dead giveaway that he was very much awake. Lysimanche sat at the side of the bed, tail listless and ears sagging dejectedly as she gave a soft whine before falling completely silent and merely curling up on the spot there. It was actually kind of pathetic how separated and obvious the two were. Matthew supposed he seemed no better given how Ottium was behaving. This would need time. Hopefully with the amount of daylight they still had left, the two’s moods would brighten and they could reconcile later.  
With the hope and promise of better times ahead Matthew settled with getting into his own night clothes. It was later In the afternoon, so nothing should interrupt them in their brooding. What a disappointing ending to an otherwise pleasant day, Ottium sourly remarked. Matthew did not respond as he tugged his shirt off over his head and went to button up his night shirt in its stead. When he was finally properly dressed and had brushed his teeth accordingly, Matthew went to bed. He did not sleep. Not for a very long time. Rather he just sat there and listened to the silence and occasionally Ottium trying to converse with him absently. Eventually he did drift off to sleep, after night had fallen and he had heard who he presumed was Francis entering the room to check on the two of them. The shuffling of papers and the steady and heavy pad of paw pads on the floor was a giveaway. He hovered briefly, looking between the two beds in confusion-- likely wondering why the two of them were sleeping separately. When Francis drew no real conclusion as to the cause of this abnormality he simply gave a soft goodnight to nobody in particular and left the room, closing the door quietly as he did so. And Matthew replied in an equally soft voice.  
“Goodnight, Mister Francis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got off their butt and finally finished this chapter! It's me! I did! Ahaha! All unfunny jokes aside I just want to say that with school starting for all of us in the near future that these super long wait times for chapter updates will either get irrationally longer or get cut in half. It's always funny how it works, so you never know!  
> Also, a heads up, I used a different method of editing this time around so I hope that the amount of mistakes has been either eliminated or at least lowered substantially! It's a hard knock life, guys. But as always! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to tell your pals, drop a comment, leave a kudos!  
> Thank you, once more, for reading. Adios!


	6. Out of Oxford

The promise of the new day was alive and well, lifted and upheld by the chirping of the vacant and vaguely listless birds that fluttered their way through the air with no real goals on their minds other than to find food and stretch their wings after having slept the night away. The sun’s rays drew out quickly with a racing dawn leading to another bright day with the heat beating down on the heads and backs of the citizens of Oxford. Although the blue sky did not yield much cloud cover to begin with the charming things blew in on a gracious wind as the hour of nine chimed past. There was a surge of life in the town not quite paralleled by the college goers who continued with their quiet study and work. More-so the scholars went about their usual goings. The handworkers and laborers went about their usual goings. Among those who did not go on about their usual goings were Alfred and Matthew. This new day held much for them to partake of and as the former had hoped, the brighter dawn and another full night of rest had exponentially lifted both of their moods. A hearty breakfast served by a familiar Belynda Palmer and her opossum daemon Iakchos with a surprise appearance made not only by Francis and Britainny but Sampson and Adelaide brought it all together for both boys as they let themselves revel in their bettered dispositions before speaking to one another.  
The plan for today had been laid out before them by both Francis and Sampson alike, news that they were to stay in their room and do their schooling and that if they should decide to disobey the first command that they mustn’t wander about. There was important business happening today and nobody needed to be tripping over anybody. Of course this did nothing but pique the interests of Alfred and Lysimanche while Matthew was more concerned with being behind on his studies. Belynda left, Francis entered. Francis left, Sampson entered. Finally Sampson left, leaving Matthew and Alfred alone to themselves at last. They dutifully worked on their work as told for a total of two hours before Alfred snapped the book he had been struggling to read shut. Matthew lifted his gaze after a moment to see what Alfred was about to get up to only to find the older boy staring at him with a sly smile playing across his lips. This could only mean one thing.  
That it did. Alfred’s smile broke to a grin as he slapped the book down to the table top and jumped up from his seat, Lysimanche fluttering after him as he went straight for the door without giving Matthew a single warning as to what he was up to. Not that Matthew felt he needed it. He was fairly certain he knew just what Alfred was up to and frankly knew that the other boy was going to need someone to make sure he didn’t get in too much trouble; at least not in trouble alone. So he rushed after Alfred, Ottium at his side in the form of a spotted canine with his ears flopping as he ran. Alfred let Matthew catch up with him but still said nothing, shushing the younger boy when he tried to speak and sneaking around in what he likely thought was an inconspicuous manner. Lysimanche was determined to keep a watchful eye out for anybody approaching, cracking the occasional joke about getting caught by ‘Old Man Jefferson’ and his ‘Nightmare Crow, Nagatha’. Her jeering nearly brought Alfred to burst with how hard he was trying to not laugh.  
Eventually Alfred brought Matthew through hallways and passages that the younger didn’t recognize whatsoever. They were entirely new to him and he had a hard time keeping his attention centered on Alfred while looking around and inspecting the place. The room they had ended up in looked like some kind of more expensive and impressive if not smaller version of the dining hall back in the servants quarters. Even Alfred ended up distracted, examining the table in the middle of the room curiously as Lysimanche settled in his hair with her wings tucked tight at her sides. After getting his fill of the papered walls, Matthew wandered his way over to Alfred and looked to what he was enrapt with.  
“Dining ware?” Alfred nodded slowly with his gaze glued on a tall wine glass, one that a more experienced individual would know was more commonly used for champagne than wine. Reaching his hand out Alfred curled his pointer finger to his thumb before flicking it against the side of the glass. A loud and shrill ringing was produced from the strike, echoing clearly through the room and startling Matthew and Ottium alike.  
“It’s crystal.” Was all Alfred remarked before lowering his hand over the rim and effectively silencing the chiming of the glass. Puzzled by what Alfred had told him, Matthew stayed still to stare at the previously singing glass while Alfred moved on to investigate the state of the other instruments set out on the table. It looked like the cutlery was sterling silver, the plates ivory with gold trimming, and the glasses had been confirmed as crystal. This kind of ware couldn’t have just been put out for your average scholars supper. Alfred knew better than that. There was something up and frankly he was insulted that he wasn’t in on whatever it was. Alfred was ready to burst into the resting room he knew was nearby to snoop around but desisted. He had never actually gotten to be in this section of the college except for once when his uncle had shown him the area. When Alfred had succeeded in tugging the cotton table cloth off the table far enough to shatter two plates, a bowl, and three glasses, he had been deemed too young to be attending any thing that happened there. So far that ban had not been lifted off his back. “It’s some time near eleven, isn’t it?” Matthew paused in what he had been doing, namely looking at the details of what could be guessed was a salad plate, and blinked up at Alfred blankly before actually processing what had been said to him.  
“I believe so, yes. Is this really set out for lunch, you think? It seems excessive.”  
“Definition?”  
“Over the top. Too much.”  
“Hm. Well, maybe.” Alfred stopped to rub the fabric of the cotton table cloth between his fingers. He was half tempted to give it a tug just for old time’s sake but despite Lysimanche’s encouragement to do so the boy resisted the urge and dropped the cover. Matthew carefully set the plate back down on the table, hearing the ivory click against the wood through the cloth cover and cringing slightly. It sounded louder than it should be in the silence. They really shouldn’t be here, should they?  
“If this really is for lunch then we’ll have to get in and get out fast. I’m kind of surprised I was right to look here.”  
“Yes, it only took you a couple tries to guess this spot, did it not?”  
“Oh, hush up. There are a lot of places they could have been doing business in, alright?” Matthew didn’t respond verbally but rather laughed quietly as he turned around and walked farther along the table before stopping to study one of the chairs. Alfred in the meantime had circled back around to the entrance of the room and was peeking out into the hall to make sure that nobody was coming. There wasn’t anybody. Not yet anyways. Turning back around, Alfred observed Matthew as the other boy wandered around the room inspecting little details about his surroundings. Noting the properties of the room as a whole as well as the things that composed the space. Alfred didn’t have enough attention span to squander on trying to absorb everything in the room. What he did note were areas that the two could hide if anything went wrong. The tablecloth was long enough that if they darted under it fast enough and went near the median of the long dining table they could go relatively undetected by anyone.  
“This place is pretty lavish.”  
“Definition.” Alfred fired his reply off without even looking Matthew’s way, head cocked as he listened intently for any approaching footsteps from the outside hall.  
“Extravagant?”  
“Definition?” When Matthew didn’t answer, Alfred turned to see what he was doing only to find the younger blond staring directly at him, fair brow drawn together and lips puckered. Alfred responded with a raise of his own eyebrow. Lysimanche fluffed up with no warning causing Alfred to turn his attention back to the hallway. Nothing. But Alfred was bold not stupid. Muttering more to himself than anybody else, Alfred turned back to Matthew and nodded to the resting room. A returning nod of understanding was given back as Matthew turned to advance on the room. Alfred nearly laughed at Ottium, who was resting on Matthew’s cheek in the form of a dark moth. Alfred made quick to follow the other boy given he was fairly eager to see what the resting room looked like. He’d only made it this far before being sent away and he had to wonder what super important business could be being held in the resting room of all places. Last he heard the place was more like a sitting room than anything.  
At last Alfred’s curiosity could be sated. Matthew opened the door slowly to test for creaks before pushing it open as fast as possible to avoid the whine of the hinges alerting anyone they were present. It was their good luck the room was also empty for the time being. Not that either of them had considered the very real possibility that someone could have already been in the room upon them entering. No, it had not once crossed their minds. Even then, entering the room and looking around at the dimly lit space the two did not consider this. Not that it mattered any longer. No, not at all. In fact the two were more enrapt with the makeup of the room than any now irrelevant possibilities.  
The resting room was, unsurprisingly, inherently and preposterously masculine. If there were a more modern equivalent for it that would be available for comparison the only words that could perhaps come to mind would be something along the lines of ‘den’ or maybe, more embarrassingly, ‘man cave’. It was like a large office, bordering the size of a small meeting hall, and had grand dark wood crafted furniture. Among them was a desk near the heavily draped windows, a table farther along that had chairs seated at it, the small circular table with the upholstered arm chair by it near the stone fireplace, the shuttered cabinet, and most interestingly a large wardrobe with double paneled doors. There was wood paneling on the lower halves of the walls as well and the crown moulding at the top of the room certainly shut the whole place in.  
Across the wall at the end of the table was a white tarp pulled taut and held up with what was likely pins, and the projector lamp that had been in Sampson’s room was sitting at the other end of the table waiting for use. While Matthew moved to the lamp to look at it, Alfred traveled over to the shuttered cabinet instead and yanked the doors open to inspect the contents of it. There were bottles and glasses lining the insides. The bottles were all filled with various kinds of alcohol while the glasses were, as the glasses set out in the dining room were, made of crystal. A couple boxes sat among the drinks as well and Alfred couldn’t help but to pick one up and open it. There was tobacco leaf. Or so Alfred assumed it was tobacco leaf judging from the scent of it. He knew that Francis sometimes smoked this stuff but personally he found the scent of the smoke it created rather repulsive. This appeared to be a small kit to roll your own cigars. Noting this, Alfred closed the container and placed it back among the other things in the cabinet before shutting it.  
There wasn’t much laid out yet to snooped through so the boys found. Nothing to really hint at what the meeting was going to be about except the projection lamp. Some kind of presentation was going to be made, that much was obvious. Aside from that, nothing. Just nothing. They had come all this way and for what? A projection lamp? Alfred had hoped for something a bit more. Anything really. Perhaps some conveniently forgotten document disclosing all secrets his uncle was keeping at the time being. Yet there was not. It was disappointing and frustrating really and in his distracted state Alfred didn’t pay much mind to Lysimanche’s sudden rigidness. It wasn’t until Ottium hissed lowly that the two boys realized that something was up. The sound of slow but steady footfalls was resonating from the room outside of the resting room.  
Matthew made desperate eye contact with Alfred, panic overwhelming his rationality. Oh good Lord, they were going to get caught in here. They were cornered. He could see the realization dawn on Alfred as well, blue eyes widening and pupils dilating in fear. There was a moment of utter terror as the footfalls got closer and Alfred rushed as quietly as possible, yanking Matthew with him and towards the wardrobe. Shoving the other boy in first before stepping in himself, Alfred tugged the doors closed behind them just in time for the first creak of the resting room door to sound. Lysimanche, having transformed into a moth as well, crawled into the wardrobe via the crack Alfred had left to peer out of the wardrobe at whoever was coming into the resting room.  
A heavy silence held as neither of the boys dared to breath, afraid it could be heard, and Alfred shifted carefully to let Matthew crawl under him to see out of the wardrobe doors as well.There was a man who had entered, one of the scholars still clad in his robes, with his daemon perched on his shoulder close to his neck. Alfred didn’t recognize him automatically although his face seemed familiar; Matthew could not identify him at all. The dark skinned man glimpsed around the room, brow knitted together as he unconsciously sensed the presence of the two other occupants. It made both boys' heart skip a beat and the wings of their insect formed daemons tremble.  
The scholar’s green eyes slid right past the wardrobe as he took a deep breath and muttered something incoherent to himself. His daemon took to the air on small wings, a speck of bright color in the otherwise dark room. As Alfred and Matthew watched, the man made his way quickly to the shuttered cabinets, throwing the doors apart and grabbed a bottle of what would later be identified as whiskey from the shelves. Three small glasses were taken as well and placed out on the miniature table near the fireplace in a set up as if they were left out for the consumption of later arrivals. While the unnamed scholar had his back to the door of the resting room he was facing the wardrobe as he reached into the folds of his robe and produced a small white packet. His actions were becoming rushed now, as if he could tell his time was running short, and he hurriedly uncapped the whiskey flask and opened the packet, fumbling with it only slightly as he poured a strange powder into the alcoholic beverage.  
Alfred and Matthew watched this in confusion and concern as the man cursed to himself in a tongue neither of them grasped as his daemons twittered her fears to him. The powder had been spilled on the table top. Quickly blowing it off the man recapped the flask and swung it to and fro to mix the powder thoroughly. Setting it back down and making sure everything was in its place, the scholar returned to the cabinet and shut the doors only to pause, reopen them, and take one of the boxes-- namely the one Alfred had been handling earlier. He then rushed from the room, closing the door behind him. Once he was surely gone Matthew craned his head back to find Alfred was staring downwards at him. Both were thinking the same thing. Whatever had been put in that drink, it sure wasn’t sugar. This was bad news and they could both feel it in the pits of their guts. They didn’t have a moment to spare to try to escape the room as almost immediately after the scholar had left and the two boys had thought it was safe to exit, the door creaked again. Someone else had entered.  
This someone else was none other than Sampson. He was alone, Arthur nor any of his fellow crewmates anywhere in sight, and his first order of business was with the projection lamp. He had brought a box with him, likely filled to burst with the slide that would be put into the lamp. Alfred was practically twitching now, probably debating how much trouble he would get in if they revealed themselves to Sampson of all people. But from the looks of it the man was simply coming in set up the slides and would leave once he was done. That was until he spotted the whiskey waiting there on the other table. From the wardrobe it was clear to see the considering expression adorn Sampson’s face as his eyebrows lifted and his lower lip jutted with debate. Matthew heard the smallest exhale of ‘oh no’ breeze from Alfred and Lysimanche in unison as Sampson diverted his path and slowly strolled up to the tampered drink.  
He stood by the drink whilst rocking on his heels in a surprisingly childlike manner, as if attempting to appear innocent or fool his own daemon that he wasn’t interested in the alcohol. He ended up making eye contact with Adelaide and broke into a grin, laughing softly to himself and turning to pick the bottle up. With one hand resting on his hip he examined the labeling of the bottle. Alfred felt his stomach drop. Every last ounce of his will was concentrated on, somehow through his thoughts, convincing Sampson to put the bottle down. Such methods proved ineffective. Sampson merely glanced from the bottle to the glasses to his daemon. She laughed at him and uttered something to him that came out sounding like a bark to Alfred and Matthew alike. With a roll of his brown eyes at whatever Adelaide had said to him, Sampson uncapped the whiskey and raised it to his lip.  
Alfred lurched out of the wardrobe at this moment, slamming the doors open as his feet caught on Matthew and he went sprawling onto the ground with a hard thud. Sampson actually yelled in shocked, the whiskey bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering dramatically against the floor as he spun around in alarm to face what he had assumed was an attacker lurking behind him. Instead all he was met with was Alfred on the ground, gritting his teeth against the pain of having fallen and trying to lift himself up. Adelaide’s hackles raised and she bared her teeth in a fearsome look of anger; Sampson‘s look of shock melted to an even more frightening look of composure that chilled Matthew as he debated trying to sink back into the coats and cloaks that took residence in the wardrobe.  
“Alfred Fredrick Kirkland… Of all disrespects… Disobeying a direct order given to you…” Alfred automatically felt anger spike over his rationality causing his blood to momentarily race to a boiling point as he finally got back to his feet.  
“There was something in that drink, blast it, Sampson!" Alfred's voice cracked as he said this and Matthew hesitantly exited the wardrobe behind him. Sampson didn't even look at him. Those normally warm brown eyes looked sharp as flint staring Alfred down as the boy struggled to keep calm. While Sampson and Alfred held eye contact, Matthew slowly moved to stand behind Alfred and kept his own gaze lowered. Maybe he could try to convince Sampson to let them go without telling anybody about this. Maybe he should have attempted to hold Alfred back? No, if he had held Alfred back Sampson would have drank that stuff and then who knew what would have become of him.  
“Excuse me?” Sampson’s voice came out quiet but strained as he folded his hands together and tried to take Alfred’s feelings into consideration. Obviously the boy was upset. He wouldn’t have decided to reveal himself so suddenly and without consideration if there wasn’t something very wrong. Something in the drink. Did he mean the whiskey? Alfred hit his clenched fists against his own thighs in frustration and looked up at Sampson defiantly.  
"A man came in here, one of the scholars. He laid out the drink and he put something in it. Powder of some kind. I saw him-- No, we saw him. Both of us... I just wanted to see what you all were up to. I didn't mean to see it. We were going to come in and then leave, but--" Sampson stopped Alfred, body suddenly stiff as he jerkily lurched towards them and pushed the boys both back towards the wardrobe.  
"In, in. Go, go in! Stay silent. Don't you dare come back out until I tell you so." Alfred made a noise of protest as he was shoved backwards into Matthew and then into the wardrobe. Sampson shut the doors on them just as another creak sounded from the other door. Alfred felt his stomach drop to his feet when he heard who it was.  
"Oh-- Sampson? What are you doing in here? Setting up the projector?" Arthur had entered the room now. He was duly surprised to see Sampson was already in given he had only told him to set up the projection slides a short while ago. As punctual and dutiful a worker as ever. Sampson turned quickly, almost too quickly, and cleared his throat awkwardly with a smile.  
"Ah, yessir. I just wanted to make sure everything was in..." The man's voice trailed off as he followed Arthur's eyes to the mess on the floor. Voxilamort approached it first, lowering her snout to sniff at it cautiously to which Adelaide warned her to stay back lest she cut her nose on the shattered glass. Arthur’s eyes narrowed at the sight of this and he looked to Sampson for some kind of explanation behind what had happened.  
“What was that prior to being smashed against the ground, if you do not mind me asking.” Arthur closed the door behind him before he paced over to Sampson, still gazing at the broken glass and liquid. Sampson rubbed his knuckles against his chest as he sought to make some kind of eye contact with Arthur before giving up and attempting to stoop to start picking up the glass. Arthur’s hand came out and caught him by the shoulder before he could do so, stopping him.  
“Ai, sir, I’m frightfully apologetic. You see, I… I spooked myself on accident, thinking I’d seen something, and dropped this bottle of whiskey… So sorry.” Arthur merely looked Sampson in the eye, lips tightening together as he gauged what he had been told. Sampson swallowed audibly and licked his lips with an attempt to smile.  
“Sampson, you’re not normally so clumsy. Try to not hurt yourself. I understand that this is very big, for the both of us, but letting nerves get the best of you now is no good. Shape up.” Relief swamped Sampson and he visibly relaxed and heaved an exhale as he nodded and patted the hand that was still on his shoulder. Adelaide pawed at her muzzle and whined shortly, avoiding the stare of the currently seated Voxilamort. Arthur caught Sampson’s hand in his own and gave it a firm squeeze before releasing it and looking back to the shattered whiskey glass.  
“This won’t do… All the same. You need not clean it up yourself. I’ll hail someone and have them attend to it. Are the necessary things in order now? The others should be ready shortly and I fear that our more fiery folk are becoming increasingly impatient with having to wait for their business to be over with.”  
“Yessir, of course. And you don’t say? They all seemed rather calm… I don’t mess with them much, as you know. They’re rather intimidating aren’t they?” Sampson said this as he rubbed his hand against his chest once more, moving away from Arthur to go fiddle with the projection lamp once more. His gaze stuck to the wardrobe before he pried it away as to not make it obvious he was staring at it.  
“They’re certainly much to take in. I don’t blame you for finding them hard to swallow, Sampson. You’ll eventually get used to it.” Arthur said this while adjusting the seat by the fireplace before dropping himself into it. Voxilamort shifted to prop her chin on his knee, eyes closing as she sighed.  
“Will I, you think? Sir, you never cease to amaze me with your resolve. You handle them with surprising finesse.” Arthur’s brows arched up at the compliment as he rubbed the knuckles of one hand with his thumb, the other gripping the armrest of the chair as he stared into the vacant fireplace.  
“Is that so? Sampson, my good man, you might interest yourself in not being so awed by simple things.” A good natured laugh was chimed in response to these words as Sampson cast a warm glance to Arthur’s back and shook his head. His own nervousness about his lies still bubbled under the surface, but to the naked eye he seemed entirely relaxed as he absently dusted at the glass of one of the slides.  
“Wouldn’t that quite take the fun out of things? Besides, sir, I assure you that there is nothing simple about facing one of those… Interesting individuals.” The pause was taken to try and conjure up a word that could best describe these mysterious people in question. From the wardrobe Matthew and Alfred listened in apprehension and curiosity. It was strange to see such relaxed conversation from two men that were often rather professional. Especially of Arthur who seemed more relaxed and laid back than either Alfred or Matthew alike had ever seen him.  
“Hm… Hmhm… Sampson, you always have been the kind of man who doesn’t give himself enough credit where it is due. Do they truly frighten you that much? I would have never guessed. You must be putting on a very brave face.” A soft ‘goodness’ could be heard from Sampson at the tone of Arthur’s voice as their conversation progressed. Setting down the slide the man braced both hands against the table he was working at as he drummed his fingers against the surface.  
“You flatter me, sir, honestly.”  
“Ah, but don’t you flatter me?”  
“You always did enjoy when people stroked the right spots, didn’t you, sir?” The smart remark had Arthur sitting up and turning in his chair to eye Sampson who was merely smiling, making a point to not return the gaze. And a shame for Alfred to miss it, but a smile pulled across Arthur’s face as he shook his head and turned back in his seat. Voxilamort quietly excused herself to the door where she smacked her paw against it, gaining the attention of Sampson who opened it for her. She proceeded to wander out into the dining room and beyond, only earning a small grunt of discomfort from Arthur at the distance.  
“I suppose so, Sampson. You would know me best, yes?”  
“That is why you’re my right hand, Sampson.” Arthur added, a slightly wistful tone sneaking into his voice. “You don’t hesitate to follow orders.”  
“I trust in your judgement. Mostly.” The last bit was added with dry humor, a sort of warning that Sampson did at times question Arthur’s motives. Arthur caught it and said nothing about it and instead opted to laugh at it. It was then that Voxilamort returned with a hand servant on her tail, his own daemon scurrying along the floor to keep up with him and the other daemon. Giving a short bow to Arthur before he kneeled to begin picking up the glass and moping at the alcohol, the man went to work. With a silent wave of his hand, Arthur inclined his head to the door. Sampson was quick to leave the room, one last glance cast to the wardrobe before he left.  
Sampson was gone for a total of ten minutes before returning with company in tow. Three men of the college board followed him, a fourth being a lower leveled scholar, and behind the five Englishmen trailed two more interesting individuals that caught the eye of Matthew and Alfred from their confines of the wardrobe. That were of such peculiarity to them that they made Julchen and her albinism seem like a normal passing thing you might see on the street at any time. They were, in fact, such an oddity to see among the English born men of the native populus that even the presence of the man Nyambuya with his dark skin and strong angular and dark features was lessened with their contrasting looks.  
They were men, as far as human men can go, of two varying statures. The man on the left was much shorter, shorter even so than Arthur, and released such a strong aura that simply seeing him entering the room made Alfred and Matthew shrink away. The other, taller and closer to the height of the others, had an eerie expression that caused one’s stomach to churn with slight uncertainty. They both had something off about them aside from their clear difference in looks from the others, as if there was something just flat out and fundamentally different about them that couldn’t quite be pinned with rationality from the standpoint of having just met them. To start with the man on the left…  
Being the shortest in the room the man automatically stood out. It was upon closer inspection and a sweeping glance that you could pick out more and more things different about him. He had impossibly straight jet black hair that framed a smooth androgynous face. His bangs were cut across his forehead just high enough that his eyebrows were visible and the rest of his hair was trimmed around his chin in a bob. Deep bottomless eyes stared out at the world from behind long lashes, although there was a glimmer or perhaps even a flickering within them that hinted at an intelligence that far surpassed those around him. His outfit was clean cut, resembling the classic European uniform with its stark white linen, gold details across the chest and on the cuffs, and pads on the shoulders. He held his left hand at his chest revealing strange shining nails, long but blunt at the ends, and his right hand was obscured at his back. The one thing that truly gave him away as an abnormality besides his opalescent skin and differently shaped features was the trailed cape that dragged behind him.  
It made a sound like brass chips being tugged along and was longer than the man was tall. He did not seem to mind it dragging on the ground at all, although it would be hard to tell given the apathetic quality of his expression. From where Matthew and Alfred were they could not tell but the cape was in fact composed entirely of white scales with a large patch of red smack dab in the middle of it. On his hip was resting a long scabbard with a blade sheathed in it.  
The other man, the taller of the two, had the same look to him though it was clear to tell the difference if you looked for more than a couple second. The serenely smiling man’s skin was dark, tan even, but not in a way that either of the children had ever encountered before. His hair had the same hue as his companions; the cut and style of it differed immensely. It was still short, shorter so than the other man’s, but his bangs swept across his forehead rather than being edge cut and part of them were pushed back and away from his face. Glittering light brown eyes stared near unblinkingly as the man held his hands in front of him.  
He appeared to be clasping a fan much like a lady of court would use but rather than thin tightly stretched cloth and bone it was composed of what appeared to be wood and paper. His clothes were the oddest thing. His shirt was cut different than any cloth Alfred nor Matthew had yet seen in their young lives and his pants were slightly baggy but tight at the ankles. His shoes resembled slippers but were obviously crafted from some kind of leather material. And of course, like the other, he had a cape.  
It was longer than even the other man’s for reasons unknown and seemed to be made entirely of copper coins. It was impressive how the scales of it seemed to be woven into intricate patterns despite no difference in color being able to mark where one stroke ended and the next began. The effect was mesmerizing and near hypnotic to stare at for too long as the garment shifted. From their hiding spot the two boys couldn’t make sense of the strange men and their odd clothing and bewildering appearances. But once all the men were present and in the room completely the door was shut. And it was in that moment a sickening realization settled over the boys hidden away in the wardrobe.  
Neither of the men appeared to have daemons present with them.  
Arthur stood from his seat now and stunningly enough bowed deeply to the two men that had entered the room last, receiving nods of acknowledgment in return. The college board members moved to take seats at the table where the projector was sitting and the meeting was put into progress.  
“My apologies for the wait, gentlemen. I assure you that my and my associates presentation will be much worth your while. Sampson, if you will?” The lights were dimmed via the oil lanterns being extinguished and a murmur passed over the meeting members as Arthur moved to the head of the table, passing by the special guests that had peculiarly not taken seats at the table. Sampson made haste to get himself to the projector, grabbing a hold of the crank and turning it rapidly before flipping a switch on the thing and starting it up. A state of the art bulb within in sputtered to life as the electricity coursed through it, illuminating the currently empty slide holster and shining up blank white light on the tarp on the wall.  
“Now… To get straight to business. As we are all very much aware of our world, I would be sure that none of us would need a review over the elementary particles that compose the very base of nature. You know I would not dare to dally on things so rudimentary, but with that in mind you must all also be aware of the new interest in the Rusakov particle.” Skepticism was the best word to describe the expressions of the gathered men. Arthur was going to try and tell them that his greatest and latest had to do with a particle that had been known and identified centuries ago? Hell, one that had been documented about since the very Birth of Christ? It wasn’t so for as Arthur continued to talk, pacing in place, more was revealed.  
“As you are now also aware we have been thrust into a new age with the discovery, or should I say revelation, of another world coexisting with ours on this very earth. One that was previously completely undetected and even invisible to us.” A short gesture was given to the men standing along side the table as this was said before Arthur continued once more.  
“Now with this in mind I’ll have to inform you that I have taken the incentive to use my time having spent in the Far East to study a naturally occurring phenomenon that was uncovered while I and my crew were there. If you could not have guessed it does have to do with the Rusakov particle. For simplicity's sake let us call it what it is. Dust. Sampson.” The first slide was dropped into place and the room went dark as the white light was obscured by blacks and greyscales. The picture being projected upon the tarp was that of a mountain range from very far away. The highest of the peaks could not be made out due to being obscured by clouds, although it was easy to guess that the tops of those behemoths soared far past their coverage.  
“Pictured here, gentlemen, are quite easily the tallest mountain ranges in the world. I would not dare exaggerate such a thing. They are spires in their own right that our guests and their kind say reach high enough to pierce the Heavens…” Arthur trailed off as he stood in front of the picture slightly, examining it. It must have been even more impressive in person.  
“It was said to us during our stay that in these mountains is the answers to the secrets of life, that those seeking such truths must shed themselves of their status and the life they have and humble themselves before trekking up the steep inclines and slopes of the mountain to its very highest peak... And then they would receive their enlightenment. Now, what truth do I know of this? None. If you wish to know more about such stories you will have to steel yourselves and approach our guests of honor and ask them.”  
“Now you might wonder what kind of madness must be ailing me to think that these stories had anything to do with a scientific naturally occurring particle. I’ll tell you. What I was interested in was that the common and alluring phenomenon that is known as the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights, that we know every so often graces the northern lands of Svalbard and the Arctic Circle with its performances also happened to dance its way into the peaks of these mountains. It plays a vital role in this process of enlightenment that I mentioned earlier.”  
“Although I fear we did not particularly come on this expedition with mountain climbing gear we did manage to obtain more and more information with deduction and attentive listening.”  
“Pardon my interruption Lord Kirkland, but might I ask what exactly any of this has to do with… Dust? Isn’t this more something that the church would be dealing with? Why do you think we of the college have any interest in such affairs?” Arthur stopped in his pacing and looked to the man who had spoken a plump and wary looking man with grey thinning hair and a permanent frown on his loosening face. What Arthur was going on about was rather unclear and Sampson drummed his fingers on the hub of the projector worriedly. It was then that the coyly smiling man spoke up, voice pleasant to the ears with the hum of the projector acting as white noise behind it.  
“Your explorer suspects that the cause of the Ancestral Lights of our lands has to do with your Dust. He is meaning to tell you, as we have discussed this prior to this meeting, that he is suspicious of a rift in the fabric of our dimension. It’s all very simple. Our kind has concluded such for centuries although… We have never so aspired such greatness as your Lord Kirkland does.” The English men seemed slightly uneased at first when the man spoke but quickly relaxed, the lull of his tone working wonders on their nerves. It was near magical how his voice simply seemed to subdue them.  
“What… Another dimension? What kind of bullshit are you trying to feed us, Kirkland?” This was said by a sharper man with wild bushy eyebrows that stuck up, snow white, over his grey eyes. Arthur merely laughed at him, a cold grating laugh of someone who had been called mad more than once.  
“Did you not hear Cheng Liang? This is no bullshit, man, this is hard fact. They are aware of the possibility-- nay, they are aware of the existence of another world beyond our own. They say that long long ago, during the first generations of our race, that their ancestors descended from the mountains shrouded in this light. Why, it’s the blasted reason they call them the Ancestral Lights! You dare call me a bullshitter when it is these people that tell you these stories? Perhaps you would like to take it up with them, hm? Sampson.” The man went white in the face as he peered over at the now named Cheng Liang and the still unnamed other, swallowing tightly before averting his gaze back to the tarp. This time it showed intricate paintings depicting great fearsome creatures with gaping maws full of teeth and clawed feet and hands, serpentine bodies, and wise but awful expressions. The group gasped in unison and even Alfred and Matthew craning dangerously to see the presentation from their hiding spots couldn’t suppress their own noises of surprise at the images.  
“I fear the photographs do not do these pictures much justice, men. But gaze upon them either way. These are the beings that came from those mountains, from those lights. These wingless creatures capable of flight and speech, of working things with their claws and communicating through thought. The records report them intermingling with the humans of these lands when they were still new and gifting them knowledge of the world beyond and much more. Think of them akin to the angels of the bible, gentlemen. It will make it easier to wrap your minds around it.” There was pure dumbfounded shock that had rooted itself in the core of the board members present. Even Sir Nyambuya seemed startled at this revelation, this information that was being presented to him. His daemon puffed her snowy feathers up in fright and tucked her head under her wing as if to hide away from the creatures. None of them had quite yet put two and two together that living descendants of these beasts stood in the room with them.  
“With this possibility in mind, would you not think that it would be entirely plausible that the mimicking sister phenomenon to these Ancestral Lights, the Aurora Borealis, could be concealing a breakthrough such as another world as well?” Arthur’s face was cast into deep shadows as he tilted his head down slightly, green eyes unnaturally bright as he grinned broadly and leered at the gathered men. A soft laugh could be heard from Cheng Liang as he flipped his fan out and quietly began to fan himself with languid movements.  
“L… Lord Kirkland. Arthur Reginald Kirkland, this is madness! Are you suggesting that we help to fund you to send an expedition north to try and discover another... Another world!?” Another laugh, this time from Arthur, that contained absolute glee, was released. With his head thrown back and chest heaving Arthur slammed his hand against the table and jolted forward, causing the men to lurch backwards with fear.  
“Precisely so! You men don’t realize it but I know something you don’t know. See, the church has been up to business of their own in the North. I know it.”  
“What kind of business? How could you possibly know what it is the church and their company have been doing? You’ve absolutely lost your mind if you think that this is anything that we as humans could possibly meddle in!”  
“Pah, pish posh, you daft man. You poor simple man! How could you not see the promise in this? We might come a step closer to unlocking the secret of where Dust comes from, how we came to be, and if not that then the sheer possibility that there could be entire other worlds waiting to be discovered-- and you tell me you wouldn’t in the slightest bit consider it? Consider trying to figure it out? You’re such a bloody bore--"  
“Arthur.” Sampson’s voice came as a warning, low and gentle but firm enough to get the point across. Arthur quickly composed himself again, clearing his throat.  
“Chairmen, hear me now, if you would. I cannot say that I myself would be very thrilled to wholeheartedly say I support your Lord Kirkland’s decision to pursue such dangerous territory. I entirely understand why you have your concerns. It is a preposterous idea. Yet I do wish to see what it is he will discover.” Cheng Liang said this with no warning to alert of his on-coming speech; he still garnered the attention of the others all the same. At last the man next to him spoke, voice deeper than his partner’s and holding a more pronounced accent hinting that English was not his first tongue.  
“As the representative appointed to work with Arthur Kirkland by the Grand High Emperor, I would like to inform the board members of this school that with their assistance or without we will see through this experiment to its end. If its end is a bust with no results or a break though with overwhelming frustration then so it will be.” The commanding tone of the man’s voice silenced the board members before Sir Nyambuya spoke at long last.  
“Lord Kirkland… As interesting as your discoveries on the nature of the Aurora Borealis are, and as much as I find your recounts of our guests culture fascinating… I request that you save your more passionate speaking for another time. We will require more concrete evidence aside from speculation and conclusions drawn from scraps of improperly documented data. Do continue with your presentation, but I plead with you to understand that such shocking and outlandish… claims, with or without the word of others, are very impossible to grasp.”  
“Understood. Let us continue, either way.” Arthur’s voice had leveled and his expression gone back to its usual controlled state as he waved his hand for Sampson to continue to the next slide. In the shadows of the wardrobe Matthew and Alfred sat in states of stupor. All they had just heard and seen made little to no sense to them. Elementary particles, Rusakov, Dust, Aurora Borealis, Ancestral Light, and alternate dimensions? Hell, the word dimensions itself was entirely cryptic to the two. As the show went on more and more foreign and unknown topics and words were brought forth, the two of the boys were lulled to sleep, moving away from the doors of the wardrobe and tugging down coats and cloaks to make themselves comfortable before leaning against one another and drifting off.  
It was hours later until the two of them were shaken awake abruptly by Sampson, blearily blinking into the darkness of the resting room as Sampson muttered to them to get a move on. Alfred crawled out first, stretching his legs and back while rubbing at his eyes. Matthew followed behind slower, not too eager about having been woken up. They were slightly disorientated and rather hungry but didn’t have any time to complain about such as Sampson tugged them along out of the resting room and into the dining room. Stopping them both with a hand on the shoulder before they could stumble away to go off and mind their own business, Sampson stooped down.  
“What you have seen or heard while in that room is not to be discussed with anyone, do you understand me? Not even amongst yourselves. You will not tell Arthur, you will not tell Francis, you will not even think of it. Is this clear?” Sampson was deathly serious, looking back and forth between the boys as they hesitantly nodded and agreed to Sampson’s instructions. Perhaps it was for the best they didn’t think about all of it. Not that either of them had made much sense of it but it was still likely better than trying to figure any of it out. With the two children complying to his order Sampson released his hold and made sure the boys left the dining room and started on their way back to the direction of their room. Once this was done he heaved a heavy sigh and turned to make his way back to the quarters he knew would likely be overturned and trashed. Arthur could have quite the temper.  
Although much time had passed since Alfred and Matthew had entered that room to the time they left, the sun had not yet dipped below the horizon and there were still people afoot. Namely a one Antonio with Fidelia nesting quietly in his robe’s pocket as he made to approach Francis where he was currently sitting pouring over book. He appeared to be sorting out some kind of problem, pencil grasped between his fingers as he held his place in the book with one hand and rubbed his temple with the other. A smile twitched over Antonio’s lips as he cleared his throat and watched the older man jolt minutely, blinking rapidly as he looked up and caught sight of Antonio standing there.  
“Mon dieu, I would hope you haven’t been standing there this whole time. Antonio, what is it? I’m busy.” Britainny whipped her tail in the slightest display of irritation but Antonio mentally dismissed it with a laugh and a grin. Striding up to Francis and dropping into the space next to him to take a seat, Antonio let Fidelia pop out of his pocket and flitter away, yellow wings beating the air before she landed on Britainny’s head and chirped cheerily.  
“I thought I would interest you in a moment of rest, Francis, that’s all. Won’t you take a break with me?”  
“Antonio sometimes I swear all you do is take breaks.” Francis removed his hand from his book and set his pencil down as he ran his hand over his face and huffed in exasperation. Antonio merely rolled his eyes and nudged Francis, lifting an eyebrow up as he reached into his other pocket and produced a small box about the size of his palm. Francis spotted the box and frowned slightly, looking at Antonio curiously as the man popped the tin open and pulled out a strip of paper and leaf.  
“Tu quieres?” The question was shoved on Francis as the man watched Antonio put leaf into the paper and start to roll it tightly, stuffing more in as he saw fit as he went along.  
“... You have a light?” Francis caved in on the offer rather quickly, managing a weak smile as Antonio nodded and removed a box of matches from the same pocket. Once two separate hand rolled cigarettes were done, Antonio put the box back into his pocket and struck a match to light them both. Once the two men had their corresponding cigarettes lit and in their mouths, Francis spoke.  
"Antonio," He started. "Do tell what exactly the occasion is that you've decided to give such a treat?"  
"Hm? I suppose you could say that this is a celebratory smoke." A morbidly gleeful smile spread on Antonio's tan face when he said this, rubbing his hands together and keeping his gaze locked on Francis. Celebratory indeed. Although perhaps it was because he felt guilty. After all, if everything went smoothly there wouldn't be much cause for Francis to celebrate would there? Not that the man was any the wiser, instead merely arching his brows in confusion as he warily took in Antonio's current expression.  
"Is that so... I would ask what it is we celebrate but I am afraid to ask. Cheers, Antonio. To whatever good there might be."  
"Cheers. To the good that may be, Francis." An appreciative nod of the head was given as Francis tucked strands of blonde back behind his ear and exhaled heavily. How tiresome. He couldn't complain though. Sitting in silence with his friend, Francis felt uneasy. There was a churning feeling in the pit of his gut as he kept subtly glancing over to find Antonio's half lidded green eyes seeming to stare through him. He couldn't make sense of it and something inside told him that he didn't want to know. No, not at all. Britainny’s voice rang clear in his head as she flicked her ears, careful not to disturb Fidelia who was very content singing softly.  
It was idled conversation that kept Francis’ otherwise nervous thoughts at bay as he continued to smoke until the cigarette met its end as a nub. The short exchange of action between Francis and Antonio lingered not as the moment of focus any longer although the two men dd continue to stay in one another’s presence. Panning back to Alfred and Matthew it would be good to note that the two were not alone. Their informal prayers had been answered, for not but shortly after they made it to their room did they encounter a familiar face come with a late lunch.  
“Alala!” Both boys were ecstatic to see Alala and Chigaru again. She didn’t often find her way into their thoughts given how preoccupied they often were with other matters; they both immensely enjoyed her company the few times they had managed to be graced with it. She seemed just as happy to see them, smiling broadly and laughing at their excited welcome from where they had been working at their table. Chigaru bounded forward to meet Lysimanche and Ottium as they went scampering over to meet him midway.  
“Afternoon to you boys! Did’ja miss me, hm?” A wink was given as Alala kicked the door shut behind her and brought her wares over to the table with a skip to her step. Unlike her usual mode of transporting food the miss had brought it all in a picnic basket, the wicker basket hanging off her arm. While Alfred was busy bouncing in his seat, eager at the idea of food, Matthew carefully piled their paperwork together and pushed it off to the side for later. Alala dropped the basket on the table once she got to it, planting her hands on her hips as she looked between the boys.  
“An’ here we’ve gots it, you two! Real simple meal now, hope you don’t mind, but the ladies an’ I-- well, we’re just gettin’ ready for our day out tomorrow so we have lots of these things laying ‘round. Hope you don’t mind much!” Alfred was already opening the flap to the basket, tugging out one of said sandwiches and inspecting it. It was Matthew who actually caught what Alala had said, eyes lighting up with interest in the event.  
“A day out? You all are going to be having a free day tomorrow?”  
“Ah, well, you see now not all of us are gonna be runnin’ amuck, of course now. Just some of us!” Matthew remembered very clearly being taken outside to the gardens when he was a couple years younger than he presently was, accompanying Mikyla and Maximus when they had a day off to themselves. It had always been fun and a refreshing break from being inside all day. Very faintly he felt a pang in his chest, a foreign feeling he couldn’t quite identify. Absently taking the sandwich Alfred was shoving his way, Matthew pondered while Alala took a seat in the window.  
“Missus Alala, you do not think that… maybe…”  
“Say, Matthew, you wouldn’ happen to like comin’ along with us would’ja? You ‘n the Young Mast’r?” Alfred perked up at being mentioned, having been busy prying the top off a milk bottle and swallowing what he had been chewing on. The smallest smile managed to lift the corners of Matthew’s lips as he nodded gratefully to Alala. She had known exactly what he was going to ask. He wondered if she had been meaning to ask him from the beginning or if she was asking just because she knew he wanted to come.  
“Wha’s’t?” Alfred managed with his lips pressed against the mouth of his bottle. Matthew could only laugh at him. Lsyimanche giggled back in Alfred’s stead to avoid him perhaps shooting milk from his nose from laughing along. Alala drummed her fingers on the table top as she momentarily looked back to see Chigaru tussling on the ground with Ottium, the younger daemon mimicking the elder’s form. She then looked back to Alfred, clearing her throat before she spoke again.  
“I just invited you ‘n Matthew to join me ‘n the others ladies on our day out ‘n the yard. We was planning on visitin’ some of the more educated and spendin’ time in the gardens, maybe takin’ a nice stroll. Sound good, don’it?”  
“Sounds splendid! When do we go?”  
“Ho-ho-hooold the horses' reins there, Young Mast’r! Not now, o’viously.” Alala’s laugh punctuated the first word of the sentence jollily as she waved her hand to emphasis Alfred’s need of patience. Matthew in the meantime finally started on his first sandwich, turning slightly in his seat to gaze out the window of the room past Alala.  
“This’s going to happen tomorrow mind you, Miss’r. We gots to have time to prepare, right?” Alfred’s face scrunched up in thought as he considered this before nodding. You did need time to prepare, of course, Alala was right about that.  
“I’m sure ready as e'er though. Work's been a knick in the neck! Ain’t never did think I’d say summin’ like that now, no I did not. This whole Kirkland business got all of us runnin’ ragged to keep the places in tip top conditions. Young Mast’r, your uncle sure gots an expensive tongue to him. Never did think, no I did not, that we’d be havin’ to prepare peafowl for a meal. Darned near had Anne-Marie faint on the spot when she heard of such a thing!” Alala laughed in good natured while Alfred’s brow furrowed up in confusion. He didn’t quite recall who Anne-Marie was but Matthew caught it and gave a shocked isolated laugh at the news. It was well known that not all animals in the world existed as daemons, but that didn’t make the discomfort of seeing said animals made into food any less for those involved. He couldn’t imagine if he had to eat an animal that Ottium had settled as. Silently, he made a little note to his daemon not to settle as anything that he would ever have to see on a platter. Ottium just laughed at him.  
“No way, though… I didn’t know he was like that. Well, I mean, I sort of did… Does he give you all trouble too?”  
“Oh, a I’ve heard now, plenty. He got Pili and Quincy runnin’ mucks. ‘specially Pili. You know there’s this big rumor goin’ ‘round he fancies Quincy? Ain’t that summin’?”  
“I have heard around, yes. I did not realize it was such a common conception?”  
“Whoa now Matthew, you might need’a numb that down a bit for me.”  
“Pardon, sorry. I didn’t realize it was a big rumor.” Alala nodded, content with the new phrasing of Matthew’s previous sentence. While Alfred went after now a second but a third sandwich, Matthew was still working on his first.  
“It is, I’ll tell you that. Quincy is all ruffled up over it too. Ah, wait, sorry Young Mast’r. Must be weird to hear summin’ like this.” Alfred looked back up again, in the middle of digging part of his sandwich out from between his gums and his cheek before quickly taking his finger out of his mouth and wiping it on his shorts.  
“I don’t really care. I don’t see how many people fancy him when he’s so cold.” Alala looked surprised at this, eyebrows arching up as she gave a soft ‘huh’. “I’d suppose it’d be ‘cause he’s a handsome fella.” Matthew kept quiet on this, wary of what Alfred might say if he agreed to it. Ottium frankly ruined his purposeful silence by speaking up from where he had hopped on the bed closest to them.  
“Isn’t he? Aesthetically speaking he really is a fine specimen, but personality wise he’s a boar!” Chigaru barked out a short laugh while Alala gave several clipped giggles of shock at the daemon’s comment. Alfred merely blinked while Lysimanche looked at Ottium strangely. Matthew lowered his head and quickly shoved the last of his sandwich in his mouth, grabbing another and starting to eat it automatically to avoid speaking any further.  
“I didn’t think about that…” Alfred finally murmured, licking his back teeth to clean them off. Alala nodded and propped her elbow on her knee as she pulled her leg.  
“Indeed, siree. In fact, you’re already starting to look a bit like him.”  
“Eh? No way, that’s impossible.”  
“Yes way! Alfred, you really are growin’ up before our very eyes, ain’t you? Your jawline’s already startin’ to sharpen. Soon you won’ have no baby fat at all on you!”  
“That’s weird, stop talking about it like that. Besides, I’ll only look like him because he and my father were brothers.”  
“Eh? You mean Lord Kirkland isn’t your father?” Alala seemed genuinely surprised at this news, as if she hadn’t known it prior. “Wait, right… Right! Nevermind, my bad, Young Mast’r. It slipped my mind.”  
“Mmn…” Alfred wasn’t pleased with this at all but went quiet on the matter, reaching for a fourth sandwich in silence. Alala let it lie and merely stared out the window at the grounds below as she waited for the two boys to eat themselves full. In the back the three occupants’ daemons chatted to fill the gap of conversation. This lasted for twenty or so minutes before Francis quite abruptly entered the room. He halted sharply upon seeing Alala present and merely lifted a hand in greeting to which she jumped up and gave a short and shallow bow.  
“Pardon, Miss'r, yous must wanna talk to the boys. I’ll be right on out, don’t you mind me. Right on out.” Francis merely nodded as Alala started to pack up the basket, wiping the corner of Matthew’s mouth as she did so before clicking her tongue at her daemon. He quickly hopped off the bed where he had been sitting with Ottium and darted right between her legs. Alala must have been used to this kind of thing from her daemon and expertly stepped around him with no difficulty as she hustled past Francis with a final goodbye and wave to the two kids. The scholar paused watching after her before finally remembering what he had come around for.  
“What a shame… She did not have to leave in such haste! Ah, oh well. Good evening Alfred, Matthew. My apologies for not stopping by earlier. Work, as you know.” Francis paced over to the table where Matthew and Alfred were just now sorting their papers apart, deciphering whose was whose by the handwriting. Britainny was quickly intercepted in her path by Ottium and Lysimanche as they shifted to more usual forms of theirs and went for her paws and ears respectively.  
“It’s fine, Sir Bonnefoy, really. We were…”  
“Busy working all afternoon.” Matthew finished for Alfred fluidly and effortlessly, the lie slipping off his tongue easily. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud that he had mastered lying or ashamed. Francis didn’t even question it. Instead he rather picked up one of the papers that was sitting strewn on the table top and examined it. It was one of Alfred’s, a book analysis paper that had been written over a novel that Francis had passed to him to read. He was fairly certain that Matthew had actually been the one doing most of the reading, aloud at least, but in the end here was the front page of the analysis. And it was nearly entirely illegible. Francis’ lips pursed together as his eyes narrowed at a particular mess of letters that he couldn’t decipher into an actual word. How dismal.  
“Ahm… Hmn, well, this is excellent news. I’m glad to hear you’re dutiful to our studies even with so much going on around you.” The two boys looked between one another and then back to Francis as he set the paper back down. Alfred blanched slightly and a brief look of sickness, like shame, passed over his face before he returned to a default.  
“Mister Francis, with your praise in mind… Missus Alala has invited us to join her and the other maids on their day off. I, well, we-- were wondering if, with your permission of course, we could join them?...” Matthew toyed with his hands as he spoke, looking up at Francis tentatively through his eyelashes. Alfred was looking at Matthew while this exchange occurred while Francis puffed air through his nose and considered this. What good timing Matthew had, to pull up this proposal right now. Truly he was growing into the skill sets of the Bonnefoy family.  
“Did she… Even more a shame now she did not stay to discuss this with me. Do you know what other of the mademoiselles will be present?”  
“Non, monsieur.”  
“I see... “ Francis rubbed at his chin now, the stubble scraping against his palm as he did so. He would just hope that an older maid would be present. Alfred was getting to that age where he would be drawing the attention of some of the younger maids and God knew that if one of those pretty young things decided to unlock that part of Alfred that they would all be doomed. They didn’t need Alfred turning into a skirt chaser this early on. He would never finish his studies.  
“Mister Francis? May we?”  
“May you… Matthew, allow me to think about it. I promise you that I will consider it. In the meantime, pass me your papers. I think it would be good to go over them with you both present for once. Especially you, Alfred.” Alfred frowned near automatically at Francis singling him out and crossed his ankles beneath the table. Matthew gave a sympathetic side glance to the other boy as he slid his own papers over to Francis and the placed his hands in his lap. They were both taken up, a finger held between the two stacks to separate them from one another, and Francis started to read through them quickly. There were science worksheets filled with theories rewritten in Alfred’s lopsided and frequently error riddled hand writing as well as math papers with the boy’s strangely neat written numbers, only a few errors to be seen throughout the paper problem wise.  
Matthew’s papers were much more literature orientated with a couple pages dedicated entirely to French work. The language was a welcoming site to Francis’ sore eyes as he skimmed through it easily to find very few errors aside from the occasional spelling or grammatical one. At the very back was the rest of Alfred’s book report, Matthew’s mathematics work, and a loose leaf paper that didn’t fit in with the rest. Brow furrowing Francis skimmed it to figure out what it was. In the end it turned out to be what looked like a journal entry, Alfred’s hand writing from the looks of it, with plenty of spelling errors. It appeared he had made an effort to make his handwriting neat. Odd considering this appeared to be a personal piece. There was mostly short hand writing with interrupted breaks of random squiggles that Francis at first thought might’ve been Alfred’s pathetic attempt at cursive before realizing it was not. It was simply squiggles. A couple of admittedly mediocre illustrations were strewn throughout as well. Francis said nothing and merely tucked it into the rest of the papers again and nodded.  
“Decent performance, both of you. Alfred, we’re going to have to work on your penmanship again. I can hardly read some of what you are writing. Matthew, you need to stop trying to do math in your head. I want to see you working the problems out on your paper. Alfred, I’ll make sure to go back over your report when I have time to properly sit down and do so. And once more, Matthew? Exceptional work on your French work. Make sure you watch your conjugations. Overall both of you displayed excellent work in your usual areas of expertise-- Ah!” Francis felt as if he’d been smacked upside the head at the sudden memory surfacing. That was correct, he had gotten everything in order but then forgotten to actually bring it up with the student in question.  
“Alfred.”  
“Mmnessir?”  
“I’ve arranged for you to at last have a hands on lab experiment dealing with all those chemicals you’ve been reading and learning about. If you do not spend all day running about with the madames tomorrow I am sure we could arrange to have i--”  
“We’ll have it tomorrow.” Alfred absolutely straight up interrupted Francis to tell him bluntly that they would in fact have the lab tomorrow. Slowly, Francis’ eyebrows lifted. After a short pause of silence a snort of sudden laughter could be heard from Matthew before he hid his mouth behind his hand.  
"Then it would do you best not to spend all day outside with the maids, yes, Alfred?"  
"Yessir." A nod, given slowly, was all Francis had left to say regarding the matter. Casting a glance to Matthew, who appeared to have gotten his giggles under control, Francis managed a weary smile before feeling Britainny butt her head against him. The boys absently started to fret at themselves, not sure what else to say to their teacher although Matthew often opened his mouth only to close it again. It wasn't every day Francis managed to stay over past the time required for him to check their work and tell them what they needed to work on and give them assignments accordingly. It was mildly awkward. Alfred didn't seem nearly so bothered about it as Matthew did.  
Eventually after small chatter that came when Francis graciously decided to strike conversation with Matthew first, to spare him the trouble, the man had to take his leave. It was slightly painful to see the disappointment in Matthew's expression as he hesitantly nodded and bid his tutor adieu. Alfred swept right up to fill the gap of the now missing person, shoving Matthew's arm and jumping up from his seat.  
"Hey, that was odd don't you think so?"  
"Eh? How so? What was?" Alfred turned on his heels to face Matthew now, blue eyes giving him a once over before he cocked his head to the side and shrugged. Matthew didn't make sense of this at all and rather just stared at Alfred, blinking twice as his expression slowly drew together in confusion.  
"Well all aside, he shouldn't be back with new work until say the day after tomorrow."  
"You figure so?"  
"I know so, obviously."  
"Is that so."  
"It is so!" Matthew waved Alfred off, the tension automatically releasing from the other boy’s shoulders as he rocked back on his heels and looked around the room.  
"You know another thing I figure is we should do something."  
"Last you said we should do something we both ended up trapped in that wardrobe. It's evening, Alfred. What could we possibly do?" This seemed to upset the older blond slightly as he squinted at Matthew with a hint of irritation. There was no need to be rude, it said. Although it was clear that Alfred simply didn't like to be wrong; even pointing out a mistake of his was enough to tip his mood if not handled with care.  
"We can surely do something. I'm not tired yet."  
"Because you slept so long?"  
"You slept too so don't start it."  
"Ah." That was Matthew's reply as he rested his elbow on the table and put his chin in his palm. Alfred had begun to pace to and fro and Matthew was fine just sitting there and watching him. It reminded him of something but he couldn't say what.  
"No school work, no place to go, we've eaten, we can't go back to town... Eugh, there has to be something. What do you have under your bed?"  
"Books, of course. Are you going to make me read you something?"  
"Well, I wouldn't make you."  
"You wouldn't?" The inquiry caught Alfred off guard as he stopped pacing to peer at Matthew curiously. He squinted. Then blinked. And then arched his brow up.  
"N... No?..." Matthew did not respond for a moment.  
"Then yes, I'll read something for you. All I really have left is the poetry book and the one about your uncle though.”  
“Eugh, what boring selection. You actually read these things? If you’re going to be so boring now, you’ll grow up to be a bore, Matthew.”  
“Well if you choose to complain about it then I won’t read either of them for you!” Matthew’s spout of assertion caused Alfred momentary surprise before he gave a whine of complaint and moved back over to the table. As Matthew stood up he was forced right back down when Alfred essentially threw his weight on the other boy, nearly toppling them both to the floor. There was obvious noises of complaint from Matthew as Alfred shifted so he wasn’t leaning all his weight on him.  
“Please?” The word was held out in an equally whining tone, going up in pitch the longer it was dragged out. A couple of shoves, although unsuccessful, shifted Alfred more until he was more leaning on the chair than Matthew.  
"Euff, fine. Get off of me first!" Alfred was quick to comply, darting over to Matthew's bed and hopping in. Ottium managed to move at the last second to avoid getting lept upon. Matthew in the meantime had gotten once more back up and was moving over to go and crouch at his bedside. While he was down there, Alfred casually put his heels on the boy's back and pushed gently. Matthew ignored it and instead fished out the poetry journal and got back up, dusting the cover off. He was next to climb up into the bed, Ottium crawling into his lap in the form of a rabbit.  
"So what's it you're going to read first?" Alfred inquired as he scooted closer to Matthew until they were arm and arm. Matthew had already opened the book to a random page and skimmed the poem. He had never been able to make sense of this one in particular in all honesty. The writer, whoever they may be, had been very vague about it. It seemed like a melancholic love poem but something else about it made Matthew think there was more to it than just romance.  
"This one. Right here." Matthew tapped his index finger to the title at the top of the page and watched as Alfred leaned over him minutely and squinted at the words.  
"... To... To the Noon...?"  
"Moon." Matthew corrected gently. Alfred merely made a noise of 'whatever' and sat back again.  
"Well, go on then. Read it."  
"Alright, alright..." Shifting to get more comfortable in his seat, Matthew sighed and brushed the pad of his thumb over the paper it was resting against.  
"Dust trickling in soft fabric waves, through the... continuum of night and day." A pause before the word continuum was taken as Matthew deciphered it and then spoke it aloud.  
"Sitting peacefully in the dark deep blue, where it is only with me and only with you."  
"The perfect afternoon, eyes wide as the sky, watching a million hearts and lovers passing by."  
"Things, of sorts, wishing to be known, but nothing that is unknown... Where it is only with you and only with me." And another pause, this time just so Matthew himself could take another crack at trying to figure out what this poem was going on about. Alfred was mostly silent, having gone back to leaning on Matthew and generally being nonchalantly touchy.  
"And through the shade of the dream, it's true."  
"Black light pours from your eyes, and to me it is a good enough reason to cry. Swaying gently in through the deep violet hue where a million words ravel into..."  
"Where it is only with me and only with you--" Alfred interrupted at this point with a grunt, brow drawn together in preplexion and generally confused emotions.  
"This doesn't seem to have much to do with the moon. That's sort of dumb."  
"Well... It is a poem, you see? Sometimes they are not really about anything. You have to make the meaning from what you are reading."  
"That makes less sense. You read this stuff for fun?" Matthew's bottom jaw moved side to side as he thought about this. Why yes, he did read this stuff for fun. "You don't understand much of it, do you, Matthew." This caused the boy to jolt as he twisted to make eye contact with Alfred. The older boy simply had a strangely sagely look of knowing that made him look the slightest bit older than he truly was. Blinking, Matthew frowned.  
"... No, not always. But I like it anyways. The writer, whoever they are, is good."  
"Yeah, okay, if you say so. Keep going." Alfred's blue eyes settled back idly on the pages of the book while Matthew opened his mouth to say something only to close it again. After a measure of silence allowed Matthew to lick his lips and then swallow he went back to reading.  
"The perfect afternoon, safe here, where it's only with you and only with me. Through the shade of a dream. It's true..."  
"... That's it?"  
"Mmhmn." Alfred seemed displeased with this and Lysimanche wordless whined from his side.  
"I can read another if you want me to, you know." Matthew offered this offhandedly as he flipped to another page entirely at random and sighed. Alfred didn't answer at first.  
"That's not it... Go on though. Read another." Matthew nearly asked Alfred what he meant then but held his tongue at that last moment, shifting his arm in what he hoped was a subtle manner as the movement caused their skin to slide together. Alfred took a slow deep breath and held it before exhaling at the same pace.  
"With a drizzling sparkle in the dampening heat, a gust so powerful it could knock empires to their knees." Matthew didn't recall having read this poem at all. In fact he had neglected to stop and check the name but didn't feel like ripping his eyes back up to the top of the page as they raced down the words to get an idea of what he was reading before he did so.  
"Dribbling slowly the pearls glide with an exhale like silk and sweat. A shot of pure... nicotine... like fire in the veins." The word nicotine was unknown. According to this author it was something dangerous that made your blood hot. Or so Matthew could assume that was what the author meant.  
"A writhing infinity to deafening cascades, to be twice the reason to paint a name on parted lips, and be the tracing sensation of spread petals on the wind." Alfred sagged against Matthew minutely at some point in this sentence before coming back to and holding himself up more.  
"Howling to silent gods, repetition on the mind, fraying at the edges to a black bliss; in the throes of an ineffable ecstasy, let it give way to deadening dread."  
"Definition, ineffable?" Matthew was slightly caught off guard when Alfred spoke again. A long stretch of silence had punctuated the end of the poem and left Matthew to reread the short blurb of words a couple times over. A blank 'uh' sprouted from Matthew before he got hit head about him again.  
"I don't recall ever seeing this word. Do you perhaps know what nicotine is?"  
"Nicotine? It's like... like, uhm... It's an add... addict... addictive, sub...stance?" Alfred forced the words out of his mouth after they had fallen awkwardly onto his tongue and clanked around against his teeth. Matthew nodded and quietly thanked Alfred before giving the poem one last read. It was then and only then that he let his eyes wander to the very top left of the page where the title was.  
"Carnal Knowledge?" The phrase didn't make a lick of sense. In fact that just made the poem more confusing. What was carnal about this? Hell, what was there that had to do with knowledge? Suddenly Alfred frustrations over the last poem made sense. This one, well, Matthew had no idea what to make of it. The title didn't help at all. Judging from the fact Alfred had sagged again, Matthew could guess he was about to have plenty of time to figure out what it meant.  
"Alfred if you're tired again you should go to sleep, really." "Mm?... No, no, it's not that." A yawn broke up the word 'that' before Alfred allowed himself to continue. "It's just that your poems are sort of boring. What was that last one even supposed to be about anyways?" "I'm not sure..."  
"Eh? What's up with that? Aren't you supposed to know this stuff?" Matthew scoffed slightly and pushed Alfred's arm. Despite the shove not being hard enough to do much of anything, Alfred fell right over and rolled onto his stomach. Matthew snapped the book shut at that point and tilted his head, staring at Alfred’s back and wondering if he was going to go to sleep right there like that.  
“Mmn… I don’t feel like getting up and changing into my night clothes.”  
“That sounds terrible. What do you plan to do then?” Alfred rolled once more until he was on his side and eyed Matthew with narrowed eyes, appearing to be deep in thought. It was then that he casually crawled under the cover of the blankets and, after much weird moving, a pair of pants was tossed Matthew’s way. Matthew spluttered in an attempt to speak as he grasped the pants he could conclude were Alfred’s and looked from the clothing to its owner in shock. Alfred was laughing now, loud and sharp laughter that started abruptly before bubbling down to his usual laughter.  
“Alfred!”  
“Matthew!” Next came off the shirt which was also thrown as Matthew who let out a wordless yell of protest and tossed the shirt right back to Alfred.  
“Put your clothes on, Alfred-- this is indecent!”  
“Oh, give it a rest! You’ve seen me near nude before. It’s not like I’m taking off my underwear or something.” Matthew opened his mouth and then closed it, opened it, closed it. He technically couldn't argue that. But for goodness sake he had some decency. Looking to Ottium for some kind of assistance, Matthew found none. His daemon only murmured unintelligibly at him and looked up at Lysimanche, who had settled herself on the headboard quietly with a pleased ruffle of feathers. Matthew supposed the only thing he could do was let Alfred be and go to sleep in the other bed. Fully clothed of course. Which is of course what Matthew did in the end, changing into his night clothes and climbing into bed with Ottium. The daemon, currently dozing off already in the form of a lamb, curled right up next to Matthew’s chest rather than behind his knees; this was because he no longer had to shy away from the possibility of being touched by Alfred. Matthew wrapped his arms around Ottium and buried his face into his daemon’s fleece with a sigh. Tomorrow would be a new day. One that they could all look forward to.  
While the two boys slept, they dreamt. For once it was Matthew who fitfully twitched and clutched at his daemon’s pelt while he snoozed on and Alfred was allowed a peaceful if not slightly unsettling slumber. The space in which he was in was dark, so dark he couldn’t see anything even if he squinted his eyes. At first the boy thought that perhaps he was awake and simply staring at the backs of his eyelids. But it was then that he felt it, the scratching at his side. It was surprisingly gentle this time, more as one might itch their own skin rather than the clawing sensation he had experienced before. Flexing his fingers Alfred found that he could move for once and as he started to turn around the hands touching him retreated away.  
“... Hello?” The echoing of his voice that returned back to him startled Alfred slightly even in his dream. Where was he? No answer came to Alfred calling out into the darkness that surrounded him. With an increasing amount of hesitance he reached out, forward, waiting to feel something. He had not actually expected his fingertips to come into contact with anything. The sensation of actually touching rather than being touched, if at least in this dream, set strange feelings through Alfred. Like vibrations traveling up his arm and spreading through his chest. He withdrew his hand quickly and took a deep breath. That had been a chest...? He just touched someone, not something. A low buzzing noise broke past Alfred's own inner thoughts and a cool breeze-- no, it was more akin to frigid breath, washed over his face.  
"H... Hello?" Trying once more, Alfred extended his hand to where he could assume a face would be. If this really was another person.The first thing he felt was... hair. Soft, silky, and as Alfred slowly tugged his hand down through it he found it was rather long. There wasn't a noise made during all of this as Alfred swallowed dryly and let his hand fall back to his side. What if that was fur, not hair? The thought made Alfred actually moan with fright before he felt a hand on his head. Was this... Was this thing copying his actions now? The hand was frigid against the skin of his scalp and gave a gentle tug on his hair before disappearing quickly.  
The last thing Alfred saw before he awoke was a flash of those frightening gold eyes, surprisingly filled with emotion and shining with curiosity. Quite literally shining in the dark. And then he was awake, staring at a strip of sunlight on the ceiling with the blankets a twisted mess around his limbs.  
Matthew was already seated at the table, curtains open partially as he bounced in his seat and stared out them. He was unaware Alfred had up. Perfect.  
"..." Slowly, making sure not to cause the bed to creak at all, Alfred untangled himself from his blankets and slid out of bed. Ottium, absorbed in whatever was going on in Matthew's head, didn't hear the pad of Alfred's feet on the wood of the floor as he approached from behind. With a pause for effect Alfred quickly reached out and grabbed Matthew's shoulders with a shout, promoting the boy to jolt with a startled gasp.  
"To Hell!" At Matthew's sour words Alfred could only laugh. Matthew could only stare at Alfred before grimacing angrily and shoving the boy back.  
"Don't do stuff like that! Especially when you aren't clothed! Put your clothes on, darn it."  
"Eh? What time is it?"  
"It's nearly noon, Alfred, you lazy bum. The maids are already walking to the gardens."  
"What!? How come you let me sleep so late?" Devastation could be the keyword here. Alfred hadn't gotten to shower nor eat, not even wash his face. He'd have to do all of that quickly, before Matthew ditched him. Matthew turned back to the window while Alfred hurriedly started to dress himself, stripping out of what remained of his yesterday’s undergarments. Matthew was already starting to edge his way towards the door of the room when Alfred went to try and wash his face. With a groan of irritation, Alfred scooped up his shoes from the floor and went after Matthew as he and Ottium exited the room and started speed walking down the hallway to the staircase.  
“Hey, hey! Hold up! I don’t even have my shoes on yet, Matthew!”  
“It is not my fault you decided to sleep in until noon!” Alfred was trying to keep up but Matthew had a head start, going down the steep incline of the stairs with a practiced ease as Ottium morphed midair and beat at the air with new wings. Lysimanche went zipping down after him as Alfred went down the steps two to three at a time to catch up with his speedy companion, shoes still grasped in his hand as he huffed and tried not to slip in his socks.  
“Blast it-- Matthew!" The younger boy, who had gotten far enough ahead of Alfred at this point that he was nearly to the door, skid to a stop and whipped around. The movement caused his hair to swing before falling back into a frame around his face as he blinked at Alfred before smiling and laughing to himself. The sight actually caused Alfred to stop, socked feet sliding slightly on the wood of the floor. This distraction gave him enough time to drop to the floor and quickly tug on his shoes, tying up the the laces quickly before hastily jumping back to his feet and rushing after Matthew as the boy started to slide out the door.  
"Sheesh, someone would think you're in some kind of rush, Matthew."  
"Punctuality is a virtue, Alfred."  
"Pardon?" Matthew only laughed again, not bothering to answer Alfred who kept a steady jogging pace next to Matthew as they went along their way to the gardens to meet up with their party members.  
When they arrived to the gardens the boys were met by a small ensemble of women all wearing the same kinds of outfits. Among them, most familiar, was Mikyla and Alala. Other familiar faces included Julia, Anne-Marie, Esther, Belynda, and Quincy. The lattermost stood slightly awkward among her shorter counterparts, smiling all the same if not with slight anxiety. Mikyla spotted the two boys first and next Esther, both of whom waved the boys over as the other maids, named and unnamed, took notice.  
"Matthew, young Kirkland, there you are. Alala told us she had gone 'nd invited you. Come on then, we haven't been waiting around for nothing!" Matthew nodded quickly, moving ahead from Alfred to go up and hug Mikyla who gave him a good squeeze and a pat on the back for good measures before he grasped her hand and the two moved along. Mikyla shuffling and Matthew skipping slightly. Alfred was left to linger behind them, slightly confused and vaguely at a loss of what to do. One of the other maids, one who Alfred was pretty sure he had never seen before, caught his eye and snickered before wagging her fingers in a wave at him.  
"Wes were just waitin' for you so we could all sit by the fountain 'n eat." Alala chimed up, pulling up next to Alfred with a basket swinging from her arm and her skirt tied up in a bunch on the side of her right thigh, revealing long dark legs with a coarse sheer of dark curly hair. Alfred stared for a moment, not having actually seen much of a woman's bare skin before, only to look back up as Alala gave him a firm hit in the shoulder.  
"Hey now, be good! I know we's 'bout the same age but that isn' no excuse, Young Master." Alfred blinked blankly at Alala as laughter gave a short lived course through the rest of the girls, Matthew turning and craning his neck to stare back at the two in confusion.  
"You're gonna have'ta deal wit us bein' various undress now, Young Master. It's blasted hot outside 'n it's our day to self."  
"Wh... What?"  
"Don't mind it, young Kirkland. She's merely teasing." Esther offered this offhandedly as she waved some of the younger maids over from where they were wandering. Alfred opened his mouth once only to shut it and keep it shut, a bit perplexed at the situation at hand all of a sudden.  
"So, Mikyla, the plan was we stop in the gardens to eat?"  
"And then we browse through the gardens, walk the way to the other scholars building, and go around the grounds."  
"Sounds excellent!"  
"That is the point, yes?" Mikyla was cut off as a couple of the maids hiked up their dress skirts and went sprinting ahead with their daemons either on their immediate person or trailing behind them. Matthew at first lurched to follow them before halting and falling back into step with Mikyla, although it was clear he was getting excited about this. Alfred briefly wondered if this was what Matthew used to do for fun before they had met. Which trailed on. Alfred had never thought about meeting Matthew indepth, not even once. How odd were these circumstances? To meet in such a fashion? Bewildering almost that the likelihood had been so low and yet it had still happened? Ah, but perhaps he was just over thinking it. Sometimes stuff just happened because it was supposed to happen. Like how Sampson had once said he had been destined to be at Arthur's side. Maybe Matthew was going to be his Sampson?  
When they all arrived at the fountain near the center of the garden there was a mass shift as maids went gathering around Julia, who was carrying two baskets of food, as she lazily fell back on her butt on the ground. Anne-Marie quickly shooed them back to give Julia some room as she popped open the baskets. Mikyla and Esther pushed their way through the group of ladies while Matthew hovered close at the edges and Alfred a little further back behind Matthew. It was then that the younger maid that Alfred had seen earlier seemed to come from nowhere, popping up beside him and bumping shoulders with him with a smile.  
"Hello there!" Alfred blinked owlishly at the girl, surprised at her behavior towards him at first as she swayed on the spot, dress skirts swinging slightly with her movement.  
"Euh?... Hello to you too, madam...?"  
"Aada."  
"Alfred." Aada, as she had introduced herself, looked Alfred over as a peculiar creature suddenly popped his head out of her dress. The first thing Alfred noticed was the beak. A solid black that ran up to the mask of the daemons face that sat over equally black eyes on a background of bright red. A chirrup that resembled the sounds of a cat purr was released as taloned feet pulled the rest of the daemons body out from underneath the fabric covering Aada's chest. A sleek sandy furred body emerged, tabby stripes of a darker ginger color decorating it and delicate red wings flapped as the creature nearly fell to the ground. Aada helped her daemon slightly as he seemed to laugh at nearly having embarrassed himself. Lysimanche peered in curiosity at the other daemon, adjusting her hold on Alfred's shoulder to keep her talons from digging into his skin. The strange creature that was, as Alfred would find out, named Desierto, quickly righted himself and tweeted at Alfred and Lysimanche. The two recoiled away slightly at the noise, still uncertain what to make of such an odd looking daemon.  
"You're very well dressed, Alfred, and polite to be calling me madam." Alfred arched an eyebrow up, looking from Aada and her daemon and then glancing over to try and catch Matthew only to see that the other maids were already in the midst of dishing out food. Matthew was somewhere in the throng, likely getting himself something to eat.  
"Alfred, hey, are you really a Kirkland?"  
"Eh?" Looking back to Aada, Alfred could only narrow his eyes before answering. "Yeah, I am. One hundred percent." Aada seemed to be unreasonably excited by this information as she leaned forward and smiled broadly at him.  
"Say so is your dad the Lord Arthur Kirkland? When he goes and gets himself killed are you going to inherit all his riches? Do you like him much? I heard he stares a lot." Alfred at first opened his mouth but it only flapped awkwardly as he tried to figure out what would possess someone to ask anyone questions like this. And why did everyone think Arthur was his dad? They didn't even look alike!  
"I-- No! He's my uncle first of all and-- and I..." Alfred had to pause. He had had the fleeting thought of hitting Arthur and telling him to get it together and treat him like a proper nephew but for him to die? Alfred was duly aware of Arthur having other siblings besides his deceased father but... It was a weird thing to think, a dead Arthur Kirkland. "I don't want him to die. I don't even want to consider it. Don't ask such questions. Did noone teach you manners?" Aada took a step back at Alfred's ferocity as she glanced over at the other maids to see if they were paying attention. Nothing. She looked back to him with a smile already stretching on her pale pink lips again, dark eyes sparkling as she suppressed a laugh.  
"You've got a lot of fight to you! I thought you'd be boring with how polite you just were, you know? Say, come eat with me, Alfred. What's your daemons name? How old are you?" Aada's rapid fire questions and turned around way of talking to Alfred was surprising the boy each twist and turn. She was so casual about it, smiling constantly and never seeming to sit still. She was either rocking on her feet or fixing at her hair or fiddling with her hands. Yet it didn't give the impression that she was nervous at all. It was entirely different emotion being displayed and frankly Alfred was at a loss to guess what it was.  
"I was going to eat with Matthew." Was all he could get out. Aada's eyebrows arched up at this as she looked once more over to see most of the maids had dispersed from Julia and were either sitting in little groups away from one another to eat or getting more food from one of the other baskets. Matthew as it turned out was seated with Julia and Anne-Marie, Mikyla and Esther sitting not too far off trying to keep an eye on everybody. Alala had gone to sit with Quincy and several other dark skinned maids who Alfred didn't know the names of.  
"Come on, why can't you eat with me and Matthew? He's that young boy over there right?"  
"He isn't that young."  
"Isn't he eight?"  
"Nine." Lysimanche was wary, and that was obvious, and Alfred could feel the residue of it leaking into him through his chest. Desierto had no such feelings on the broad eagle shaped daemon, hopping from Aada's shoulder and making quick work to come hover by her so they were beak to beak.  
"That's young, I'd say."  
"Well... I'm twelve." Alfred wasn't quite sure how to defend Matthew against an accusation that wasn't so much such but more fact.  
"And I'm thirteen! See, we're both adults basically. Come on, come eat with me." Before Alfred could protest again Aada had grabbed his hand and was tugging him. He couldn't deny he was hungry but Alfred really didn't know what to say or do with Aada. He had considered himself a friendly person but this girl, whoever she was, was making him feel... not quite so confident.  
Aada plopped herself and Alfred down at the edge of the fountain, taking her seat directly on the stone lip of the fountain bowl as she crossed her ankles. Alfred was hesitantly lowering himself to sit on the ground when Aada cleared her throat. Desierto had landed next to her, minutely distracted by the sparkling waters of the fountain.  
"Well, you can go get our food now."  
"What? Hey! Why do I have to get it?"  
"Because that's how this works, silly! You're the gentleman here so you go get the food. Go on now." Alfred let out a noise of pure insult at this and got right up, shoulders rising. Lysimanche had her feathers all ruffled, yellow eyes staring Aada down. Aada didn't even flinch under the intimidating stare of Lysimanche. The staring match lasted a good couple of seconds before Alfred stubbornly turned and stomped off to go get the food, finding that Aada had no give for him. She wasn't backing down. It annoyed him slightly that some random girl was pushing him around out of nowhere.  
Alfred had to hunt a bit to find a maid that had a basket that hadn't been mostly emptied but eventually gathered such and made the trip back to Aada who was still quietly sitting at the fountain waiting. Briefly Alfred felt like someone had been staring at him but found nobody was doing so when he turned. Upon arriving back to the fountain, Alfred begrudgingly handed over the food and drink he had gotten for Aada who thanked him with a nod of her head and a smile. Unsure of how else to respond Alfred merely gave a soft 'you are welcome'. The boy retook his seat on the ground at this point in time, quietly taking a bite out of his sandwich while Lysimanche waddled herself into his lap and and sat there with her wings tucked at her side. Aada kicked her feet idly as she watched Alfred, eyes narrowed slightly and Desierto quite happily splashing in the water behind her.  
While Aada started to hammer Alfred with questions and requests again, Matthew and his group were making conversation about the two of them. Esther seemed upset about Aada while Mikyla pat her knee and tried to convince the woman it was merely girls being girls. Julia was lazily chewing while leaning against Matthew as the boy looked back and forth between the two older women, trying to figure out what they were going on about.  
"I don't care about girls being girls, she shouldn't be bugging the boy. Say it were the other way around--"  
"And why, it would still be two young ones practicing their twiterpation." Esther's mouth pressed to a line as she pat her daemon and squinted at the children.  
"Twiterpation, of course, but I'd say the young Kirkland isn't quite taken."  
"Well I'd be willing to bet he hasn't been twittered at, Esther."  
"Not twittered at by any ladies at least."  
"Anne-Marie!" Julia snorted and coughed while Annie-Marie tossed her head with a sly smile and pressed her drink to her lips. Matthew could only give a short laugh and a confused smile, eyebrow arching up as he looked at Julia and then to Mikyla who was shaking her head.  
"You rotten girl, Anne-Marie. That must be the French in you, I swear." The dark haired young woman paid no heed to the comment but rather gestured back to the two 'love birds' by the fountain.  
"Ah look, see there? She's going to try and convince him to play doctor at this rate."  
"Play doctor?"  
"Nothing to concern you, Matthew!" Mikyla's answer came a bit too quick as she shot Anne-Marie a look. Julia choked back another laugh as she beat her fist against her chest and tried to play it off as a coughing fit.  
"My goodness, they're only trying to play in the fountain! Anne-Marie you stop this."  
"First comes love and then comes marriage and then soon after is the--"  
"Julia, don't encourage her!" Matthew could only find himself laughing at the disapproval of Mikyla and Esther at the younger girls jabs. Whatever it was that they meant, he hoped he would find out later. In the meantime there was a splashing noise and a shout from the fountain. Aada and Alfred appeared to have engaged themselves in splashing at one another rather than just wading in the pool of the fountain. Julia sat up properly now and looked to Anne-Marie hopefully. The darker haired woman blinked at Julia before looking back to the fountain and then to Mikyla and Esther.  
"Oh, fine, if playing will keep you from making indecent commentary then by God's grace, go right ahead!"  
"Yes!"  
"Matthew, come on." Julia was surprisingly quick to get up for some normally so lethargic, grabbing Matthew hand and tugging him up with her as Anne-Marie started the walk to the fountain at a jogging pace, pulling her dress skirts up and tying them over themselves to keep them up. Matthew watched as Anne-Marie quite gracelessly kicked her shoes off, sending them flying in some direction or another as her daemon squawked at her for it before she vaulted directly into the fountain waters. The sudden appearance startled Aada and Alfred a tad bit to say the least. Julia was next, cupping Cimon in her hands as she slipped her shoes off and climbed into the fountain without even bothering to lift her dress skirts. Matthew was in next, stopping at the edge of the fountain to take off his shoes and socks and letting Ottium test the waters before he went in.  
"Yeesh! This is cold, don't you think?" Ottium was quick out of the water, shaking himself dry as he slapped the stone of the fountain edge with webbed feet and clacked his beak together.  
"A bit, but you probably shouldn't have just dived into it." Matthew was quick to try and get his skin used to the temperature of the water, kicking his feet around while Anne-Marie chided Julia about having not pulled her skirts up before entering the water. A couple other maids, catching on to what was happening, were already making their way over to the fountain as well while Matthew looked over to see Alfred getting splashed directly in the face by water Aada had cupped in her hands and tossed his way. Aada laughed happily about this as Alfred wiped at his face and tried to say something only to end up laughing as Aada got splashed from behind by Julia and stumbled forward slightly. At this point Alfred's shirt and shorts were wet, clinging to his thighs and chest while Aada's dress had gotten wet in the skirts regardless and was now stuck to her back where Julia had splashed.  
At this point Aada had gone back to tugging Alfred along, out of the fountain as more people crowded around it, and started to wring her clothes out the best she could while Desierto shook himself around and flapped his wings to dry them. Lysimanche, having not shifted from her form yet, followed suit in drying her wings out while Alfred looked down at his shirt and debated having to take it off. It was one thing to disrobe in front of Matthew but something entirely different in front of someone he had just met. Much less a girl. A bunch of girls actually. Tugging the fabric away from his skin only to have it stick right back to him, Alfred let out a weak last laugh and sighed before looking up at Aada. The girl was smiling again, looking him over as she tugged a hand through her hair.  
"You're a bit on the scrawny side, you know."  
"Wh-- What?!" The comment hit insult side down and Alfred grimaced. Scrawny? Compared to who exactly? Sure there were those two guys that he had seen briefly that apparently worked on the college grounds, and Sampson, and his uncle, and...  
"I... am not."  
"Are too, Alfred. They must be really soft on you up there at the college. Say, do you think I could beat you in an arm wrestling match?" The familiar Kirkland look of insult spread across Alfred's face as he huffed and squared off his shoulders.  
"I think not." Aada hopped forward, prancing on her toes briefly before rocking to her heels.  
"You think not? Do you know not?"  
"That too."  
"Then it's a challenge!"  
"There's no doubt to begin with!"  
"Beat her, Alfred, beat her!" The cheer came from Lysimanche who had finally gotten her wings at least a little bit dry and took off from the ground a short ways before landing again. Aada laughed again at Lysimanche’s words and Desierto gave a shrill noise before pouncing after the larger hawk daemon. Matthew peered back around the to watch them, blinking at the display as the two started a game of back and forth. What was the word that Mikyla had used? Twitterpation? In the background Julia was trying to coax Quincy to come into the fountain with them although she refused insistently and shied away from the merriment, hugging herself.  
There was a small bit of splashing that got out of control and people falling into water before Mikyla and Esther called the girls out of the fountain and told them that they better pack up the remaining things into the baskets. They were going to start walking now, which was likely for the best given how a good chunk of the maids that come dry were now in various stages of dampness to soaking. Matthew had managed to avoid getting too wet, having only really waded through the water rather than splashing around in it, and followed quickly after the departing group carrying one shoe and his socks while Ottium followed behind in the form of a canine, other shoe clamped in his mouth.  
The walk started off well enough, Matthew sticking close to Julia and Anne-Marie although occasionally looking around to try and find Mikyla and Esther. The boy tried to keep an eye out for Alfred, tugging at the collar of his shirt and sighing often as he squinted past the other girls and tried to see if he could hear the girl Alfred was with or Alfred himself. Neither showed. As the group kept on eventually Matthew stopped to put his shoes back on; Julia stopping with him gladly and nearly nodding off on the ground before Anne-Marie nudged the girl and got her back up. It was then that a couple of noises caught Matthew’s attention. The first was a whistle that jolted the boy to sit up and look around. When had they gotten near the agricultural sector? Good grief how long had they been walking? There, not far off, behind the fences that closed off the farming land from the rest of the grounds, were several men.  
As was custom, the lot of the individuals in question were wearing uniforms of a variety. Said uniforms consisted of white low collared shirts with short sleeves and tan pants. Some of the men wore either denim or canvas overalls. Most of them were wearing boots as well, a sensible choice for their occupation. The most easily identifiable of them was Tucker, standing near the back of the group of others coming up to the fence to watch the maids pass by. He politely waved to the women before hollering to the others to get back to work rather than howling like hounds. While some of the older farmhands got back to it, the younger ones still hung by the fence.  
“Hey, hey, pretty ladies, won’t you spare us dogs a moment?” This call came from a spindly looking fellow with a mop of short sandy blonde hair on his head and dull baby blue eyes. His daemon was, ironically enough, a long coated black and white dog with her flopped ears standing as tall as possible and tail wagging. He had his arm resting on the fence and was standing next to another guy, who was a couple inches taller than him, who had dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. He appeared to be chewing something and had a cheeky smile on his face, not particularly looking any of the maids in the eye as Matthew could tell. His daemon had her front paws on the lower rung of the fence, her pointed muzzle sticking out. A fox. That could certainly say something about him. A much more kindly looking man with dark brown skin and short curled black hair raised a hand in greeting as he set his other on the shoulder of the blond man with the canine daemon. His own daemon was a couple feet behind him, a sturdy and fine looking bovine with big pretty eyes and a fine looking coat.  
“You boys shoo! We already have two with us, we don’t need no more!” This was Esther speaking, waving the two of the three off to which the dark skinned man gave an apologetic smile and a sympathetic shrug as he tried to tug the blond back from the fence. In the end the brunet ended up hopping over the fence much to both Tucker and Esther’s disapproval and the blond soon followed after him. The young man with the heifer daemon looked back to Tucker for some form of guidance before the man him off to go follow after what may or may not have been his two friends. Paying mind to the fact his daemon couldn’t just slip through the fence the man made quick haste to the gate and left through there for convenience's sake.  
“My, my, now, sorry ma’am but I just couldn’t quite hear you from all the way over there.” Esther scowled at the boy before her, thin shoulders stiff while Mikyla huffed and stood in front of a group of maids who were clearly disinterested in the wannabe suitor trying to pal around with them. The blond showed up quickly behind him, nearly bumping into the guy before righting himself.  
“Ai, ai, didn’t hear you is right. But looks like now that we’re here we’ll be able to read you loud’n’clear, eh?” Matthew moved farther forward to see what was going on between the two women and the two men. Several of the other maids were more focused on the approaching man than the two that were already there in front of them.  
“Now, you boys best not try to be troublesome with us or we’ll have plenty of issues. Didn’t Tucker call you back over to work? You’re slacking off now?”  
“And you’re not? Hm, miss?”  
“Hey now, you two, are you harassing these poor people?” “Oi, Nathaniel, don’t you have sod to bust up?”  
“And you don’t?” The dark skinned man, Nathaniel, came right up and slugged the brunet in the arm with a smile present on his face. Pressing his palm to chest and keeping a hold now on the blond, Nathaniel bowed his head and gave a laugh.  
“I apologize for these two, see, they’re not the sharpest tools in the storehouse. I’ll send these two off and make sure to escort you away… Miss?”  
“Nathaniel, yes? Mikyla Jovanesson, and this is Esther Yale. We’re the escorts of this group of ladies. We’re on our day off and we would surely appreciate you taking these two young men away.” Nathaniel nodded as he listened to Mikyla, giving the blond man’s arm a squeeze as he opened his mouth to protest against this with some sort of excuse.  
“Of course! Pleasure to meet you Miss Mikyla. To you too, Miss Esther. Tobias, Howard. Shall we, boys?” An arm thrown over each man’s shoulder, Nathaniel gave the two paler skinned men a broad award winning smile. A couple of the maids smiled in involuntary response to such a look and gave interested peers to the man whose daemon, the dear cow with the pretty dark pelt, lowed at the two smaller daemons that were unpleased with the results of this encounter. She was instructing them with a sort of stern maternal tone that they needed to get moving and back to work. Sod wasn’t going to bust itself and they needed to weed the strawberries.  
Alala gave a familiar call to Nathaniel in greeting and he responded back with a laugh and a wave, prompting most of the other maids to turn to look at Alala. Matthew finally made it to the front in time to watch as Nathaniel led Tobias and Howard away, the two other men obviously sour about this while Esther and Mikyla rounded the maids back up into a proper group and started to walk again. It was several minutes before there was another stop, this time just to rest. Matthew finally spotted Alfred at this point in time, shimmying his way past the others to reach him.  
"Alfred--" Alfred jumped at the first syllable of his name, turning to face Matthew and snapping out a 'what' before the younger boy could even finish saying the other's name. There was vague confusion and wariness suddenly as Matthew looked to Alfred's side to see Aada who merely glanced over him. Now although Matthew had no reason to fear any woman, for he trusted them more quickly than any man save perhaps Francis, the girl's stare made his skin feel too tight and his insides churn unpleasantly. It might have made him feel self-conscious even.  
"Uh... I was just... looking for you is all." Alfred's shoulders relaxed as he blinked and tilted his head away from Lysimanche's beak minutely. Aada folded her hands and let Desierto visibly bristle at the flank, the girl's daemon staring intently at Ottium who snarled in return. This only made Matthew want to turn and walk away even more as he looked between Alfred and Aada.  
"Well? You found me, didn't you? What is it, Matthew." Matthew's lips parted noiselessly and stayed open slightly even as his teeth drifted back together and he blinked, appearing to just go silent as he grabbed his own wrist in one hand and swallowed. Eyes slowly drifting to stare down rather than directly at the two other kids, Matthew released a weak noise before coughing and turning away quickly. Alfred only got 'Matt' out of his mouth before the child was gone, darting off to find Julia and Anne-Marie again. Aada merely shrugged.  
Ottium was late behind Matthew, having stayed behind to stare at Desierto a little while longer before taking off and morphing to a form a bit better suited for running than his smaller canine form had been. By the time Matthew made it back to Julia and Anne-Marie the group was on the move again.  
"Matthew, what was that?" Ottium's voice was sharp with a hint of wobble due to his other half's emotions bleeding into his. Matthew licked his lips but didn't answer and merely stubbornly hugged himself while Ottium groaned and tossed his head to and fro.  
"That was useless. Why did we even go over there, trying to find him. He probably left for a reason. Bored." Matthew, upon hearing his own inner troubled thoughts pouring from Ottium's tongue, appeared quite startled. Looking to Julia and Anne-Marie to make sure they couldn't understand what his daemon was saying the boy found the two of them peering at him with the slightest bit of confusion and concern.  
"Sorry... How long do you think we will be walking?" Julia blinked slowly, eyes fluttering back down briefly as she opened them again before she heaved a yawn and shrugged.  
"Well as it is, we've not even made it to the other scholars building."  
"There's... There's more than one?" Anne-Marie nodded and clicked her tongue at Beauregard who squawked and shook his tail feathers in aggravation at getting them dirtied.  
"There's several from what I've gathered. Say, you and that other boy, Alfred-- You live in the main scholars building don't you?" Matthew nodded slowly, already starting to feel a bit better talking to Anne-Marie and watching Julia starting to nod off again. The dark haired woman nodded thoughtfully about this before looking back ahead of herself.  
"You'll like this scholars building more. No men." This momentarily confused Matthew; Julia giggled, swaying on the spot before Anne-Marie caught her. Matthew looked down to Ottium who stubbornly looked away from him, obviously upset about what had just transpired with Alfred and Aada. Matthew wasn't sure what to say to his daemon. That surely wasn't the first time Matthew had shyly backed out of social interaction. Then why did this feel different? Leaving Ottium to boil in silence Matthew wrung his wrists and stepped up to stick close by Anne-Marie who absently reached out and put her hand on Matthew's shoulder.  
While Matthew continue to stress over his own troubles, the group moved on. After all, the world doesn't just stop moving when someone gets upset. Even if it feels like it should, it never will. Somewhere else off, Alfred and Aada were conversing about what had just happened as well. Or more so Alfred was trying to. Aada didn't seem to care much about Matthew having fun off just thinking that it was nothing to bother with. Alfred was a bit more upset. Whether it was because he was worried about Matthew or simply annoyed with this behavior was a topic to debate. He half considered having Lysimanche fly off to go find the two of them; the boy quickly decided against it. If Matthew was going to go bumbling just because Alfred was with somebody else currently that was his own fault. He was friends with the rest of the maids anyways-- as if he were short on company? Yet it still bugged Alfred. Made him mad for whatever reasons.  
This entire experience was dredging up feelings that Alfred couldn’t quite identify and wasn’t sure he liked. Between feeling a bit singled out by Aada’s attention and now this strange irritation regarding Matthew, seeming to be sparked for no good reason, Alfred was having a tough time deciphering himself. Lysimanche was providing no help in the prospect of self analysis seeing as she herself was in a bit of disarray. She was itching to change forms, having exhausted her amusement with her current one, but she was well aware that Aada and Desierto thought her to be settled. How disappointing it would be if she shifted so suddenly? Not that under usual circumstances Lysimanche would give a damn; as the young Kirkland and his daemon were finding, there were many things that they currently did not understand whatsoever. In the end, much to Aada's chagrin, Alfred excused himself and left the sorely disappointed young lady standing there. As soon as Alfred was sure he was out of sight Lysimanche morphed. She draped herself in a coil around his neck with a low mutter, more content with having changed form in general than with what form she was assuming.  
"Well... She was nice I guess." Lysimanche merely snorted at Alfred's words and refused to speak. Too stubborn to, likely. She wasn't in the mood to chatter nor was Alfred and she knew that. Although they couldn't exactly separate to dwell in their own thoughts nor did either have their own thoughts, not truly, they did walk in silence. At the pace the group was going, Alfred included, it wasn't but nearly half an hour before they all finally made it the scholar's building that Anne-Marie had mentioned to Matthew. The building wasn't particularly much to look at in all reality, not compared to the building that Alfred had called home all his life or even the one that Matthew had most his life. It was underwhelming to gaze upon if anything.  
The building before the group had a low roof in a state of decrepitness that was especially inexcusable for a place such as the college, and the bricks of the building had ivy creeping upon them and into the decaying grout between the bricks. From inside there came much clamor, hinting at a high rate of activity going on within the walls of this building. Briefly there was a pause as if it were being considered if the company should enter the building or not. As the option was contemplated over, a sudden silence seemed to fall before the creak of the door alarmed the maids. A thin woman with a rather sharp face and long nose peeked her way out from behind the door and peered at the maids waiting outside. Her dark circle clad eyes narrowing, the gaunt miss quickly located Esther and Mikyla and an eyebrow rose. Esther waved meekly to her and gave an apologetic smile before looking to Mikyla. The stouter woman could only smile and try wave the woman back into the building. But it was too late. She was already out the door and walking over to Esther and Mikyla with her daemon following shortly behind her. A large boar of a pig with an above average intelligence radiating from his beady black eyes. It was fitting in some way.  
"Ladies... Would you mind telling me why you have interrupted our classes?"  
"Oh, Madame Rochelle we didn't mean any harm to it! If you and the girls are busy we'll be on our way, honest to God."  
"Oh be still Mikyla." This Madame Rochelle waved Mikyla off before crossing her arms over her chest and laughing slightly, surprising everyone considering the woman seemed so strict looking.  
"Ah... Naya. Of course! It's so good to see you again. Have the men come and fixed the leaking roof yet?" Mikyla was messing with her hands, fretting her fingers together as she spoke to Naya. The woman before her simply kept herself tall as she stared down at Mikyla and occasionally made eye contact with Esther.  
"You know the answer to that, I'm sure. But what is it you’ve really come for?”  
"We... We had a day off and wanted to stop by to see if you all we're free." Naya nodded slowly as Mikyla spoke, uncrossing her arms and turning to look at the door where several curious young women had started to gather to peer out. They automatically retreated back into the building with a gasp upon being found out.  
"I am afraid to tell you we are not free presently. What a shame you have walked yourself all the way out here only to be turned away. Hopefully you won't hold too harsh of feelings, Mikyla. You too, Esther. Eugene, do go in there and tell the mistresses to take their seats." Eugene, who was revealed to be Naya's daemon, grunted in answer and trotted his way back into the building with a barking command for the women inside to seat themselves. Mikyla shook her head vigorously, hair untucking from her bun and landing into wisps around her face. Maximus paced backwards and abruptly took a seat.  
"No, of course not! It was a bit, er, so to say daft?"  
"Stupid would have worked fine."  
"Oh, well, I was just trying to be a bit more eloquent about it." Naya's thin eyebrows arched up at this before she let out a small 'hmph'.  
"Well, I am glad to hear that there are no hard feelings. Now off along, all of you. Just because the men of the high board do not respect our learning does not mean I will let you keep us from it. Bye bye now." More furious nodding from Mikyla as Naya turned on the heel of her shoes curtly and marched herself back into her crumbling building, chin up. The stout maid turned on her own group of girls, waving them back in the direction they had come from hastily. The ladies were hesitant to turn, unsure of what had just exactly transpired, but when Mikyla huffed at them in exasperation they made quick to do as instructed. The walk back was more of a jog which had most girls lifting their now dried dress skirts up so they wouldn't trip on them. Matthew, at this point, was barely keeping up with Anne-Marie and Julia. Both of them were surprisingly energized, Julia especially, which left the drowsy child at a loss. He was progressively becoming more and more tired the further they had to go and briefly considered asking Anne-Marie to carry him before Ottium stubbornly refused the notion for him. He would walk the rest of the way and he would like it. In the meantime, Alfred was still wandering his way about the group aimlessly. He was beginning to grow bored and had already recalled that his had a lesson with Francis today that he was supposed to be looking forward to. As charming as the idea sounded Alfred found himself incredibly distracted by, well, nothing. He just felt scattered. It was a frustrating feeling but the boy just couldn't bring himself to concentrate and the white noise in his head was half driving him mad. Lysimanche was just as frustrated, really; their combined sour moods was making the pair even seem unapproachable.  
The rush back brought the group past the agriculture sector again and all the way back to the fountains where the congregation skidded to a halt upon seeing someone there. Someone who none of them had ever seen before and frankly weren't quite sure what to make of her upon laying eyes upon her. Mikyla and Esther positioned themselves in front of the girls, wary and suspicious if not a bit afraid of the stranger before them. The woman didn't seem aware that she was being watched, thrusting her hands into the fountain water and bring it to her mouth before doing something none of them quite understood. She put the water in her mouth and then, with a couple seconds passing, spat out vapor. She seemed quite content with her little novelty trick but upon hearing the rising murmurs from the maids she turned, and quickly at that.  
The girl before them seemed to be in her early twenties if not a bit younger or a bit older. She was wearing mens' clothing as they all noticed right away, the uniform on her fitting snugly and fit against her body. She was incredibly flat chested; her chin length, board straight, jet black hair could be deceiving from the back. Dark almond eyes stared back at the group who took a collective step away from the woman as she bared her teeth in a sudden smile, revealing a pearly row of teeth not truly human. What Alfred and Matthew alike noticed that nobody else could make sense of was the cape of scales upon her back, pearly white with red woven into them. She was one of them-- she was the same thing as those men from the room. Dark brown eyes filled with a strange light, the woman rushed the group with what could have been described as excitement. It merely startled and frightened the women, nearly causing Mikyla to fall over as she hurriedly stepped backwards away from the caped vapor breather.  
She was spitting tongues at the group, her dark eyebrows lifted and sharp teeth still visible in a wide smile as she gestured at the vaguely terrified women and tried to communicate with them. It was no use and she eventually caught on that these people didn't speak her language and cleared her throat which the company watching her could've sworn produced some kind of strange light from behind the skin of her neck. The English she spoke came out accented in the same way Alfred and Matthew had heard Cheng Liang and his accomplice's speak.  
"Evening! I saw you from window, up in building-- I wanted to say hello. You all gone away before I got to fountain. I waited to see if you were coming back, and here you are!" Overall the woman seemed excited, reaching out to Mikyla and Esther as if she meant to touch them. One look at her nails had them shying away from the touch. They hadn't yet realized her lack of daemon either, which would likely be the last straw. Even with the overall reaction to her appearance, as strange as she knew it must be to these people, the women did not give in. She managed to speedily dart around the two older women and close in on one of the girls behind them, inspecting her face carefully and with interest. The girl barely repressed a scream, choking it back as she started to swoon against the girl behind her.  
"You all are very jumpy. Is there something a matter? What is saying. Has the cat got your tongue?" The fear only spiked as she started to speak again, moving away from one girl to go on to the next. She spoke a little more, but none could catch what she was saying due to her accent making it hard to decipher her words. It was when she caught sight of Alfred, eyes narrowing slightly in something akin to suspicion, that suddenly a booming shout caused several yells to fight their way out of the girls of the maid company.  
"Nichiko!" The young women of the college immediately drew away from Nichiko who swung around with her own noise of surprise, pulling her cape around her arm and close to herself. The person who had spoken was a man who was advancing at an alarming rate down the paved pathway towards them all. He was the unnamed man from the meeting, the one that had been with Cheng. Nichiko seemed stunned to see him there, moving forward to meet him in the middle.  
"Ojisan?" The man came to a stop in front of Nichiko, brow drawn together in a fierce expression as he came toe to toe with the woman. She made to take a step back, bowing to him in respect and apology as he started to rapidly speak to her in a tongue the maids could not make sense of whatsoever. Nichiko tried to respond back but got cut off as the man looked pointedly at the group of humans watching them. They shrunk away from him and averted their gazes as he turned his attention back to Nichiko.  
" _Come. Now. You have broken enough rules already._ " Nichiko swallowed, eyes still averted to the ground as she let her uncle turn around and start walking off. She kept several paces behind him, turning briefly to give a goodbye to the people she and her relative had scared senseless. The only ones to say goodbye back where Alfred and Matthew. The boys had some vague idea of what she was and in a sense who she was, although these were entirely speculations and not based off of any real facts.  
The two went off, back up into the college, with Nichiko trailing behind dutifully as her uncle walked onward. It was after ascending several flights of stairs and going through twining corridors that they finally arrived at to their rooming that of which was on the uppermost floor of the college. Nichiko only flinched slightly when her uncle threw the door of the room open so hard it nearly ripped off its stiff hinges, startling two out of the three currently occupying the room. Cheng blinked at the obviously upset man before him and set aside the pick he had been using to clean his nails. The two other individuals in the room, a pair of young men that appeared to be brothers, shifted nervously as the two entered. Nichiko quietly closed the door behind her.  
"I specifically told you to stay here and watch these two." Nichiko couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly, watching as confusion spread across the faces of the two aforementioned individuals she had been assigned to watch after. Oh, of course. Make her play sentry duty for the century olds.  
"I know what you told me to do, uncle." The words, not even close to English, flowed smoothly off Nichiko's tongue. Although Cheng Liang knew what the two were saying to one another he politely went back to cleaning his nails so as to feign that he wasn't listening.  
"Yet you still disobeyed? That does not help your situation any, Nichiko."  
"They didn't even go anywhere! They sat here and stayed and--"  
"You still left your post. You should consider yourself lucky you were even allowed to come with us on this journey." Nichiko bit her tongue harshly, drawing pricks of blood at the points of her teeth as she kept her gaze level to her uncle's feet. She briefly fantasized about scuffing his boots with her heel.  
"Kiku," Cheng was speaking now, eyes not lifting from his nails as he kept picking at the undersides of them. The man speaking to Nichiko turned to face Cheng Liang now, lips pulling to a frown. "Scolding her in front of us all is very impolite, don't you think? Yong and Hyon have not done anything but sit there and polish their weaponry for hours now. One slip up like this can surely be excused for your niece's usual good behavior." Kiku merely scowled at Cheng's talk of Nichiko's so-called previous good behavior. Oh, how funny of him. As if Nichiko wasn't prone to stepping out of line and causing trouble.  
"I do not think I would like to argue about her all night, especially with you. Nichiko, understand," And Kiku turned back to the young woman who had stopped listening to him when he had started talking to Cheng and was now looking off elsewhere.  
"... Nichiko."  
"Uh? Yes?" Kiku heaved an irritated sigh at this, eyes closing as he sat there in a moment of silence. This child had been spawned from his bloodline? Surely this rebellious nature must have come from the other side of her parentage. He refused to believe such could in the true Honda bloodline.  
"Understand. The next you disobey I will personally make sure you are demoted."  
"Uncle!"  
"That seems only fair." Cheng added quietly, switching hands. Nichiko huffed noisily and was near to stamping her foot, chest and throat heating up as she tried to hold in a whine of complaint. She couldn't handle this with immaturity, especially not in front of the two younger boys currently watching this nonsense going down. She knew with enough persuasion she could possibly make Kiku change his mind; that was a very vague 'possibly'. So instead of arguing back, Nichiko merely went silent and let her uncle stare at her until he decided he was done with it.  
"If you need me I will be in my quarter. Keep an eye on these three please." Cheng arched one eyebrow up but nodded all the same, keeping quiet still. Once Kiku had gone, the door of his room clicking behind him, Cheng sighed and Nichiko flopped to the ground gracelessly.  
"What a stiff."  
"Honda, please, if you must bad talk your uncle at least do so in silence. He will hear you."  
"I don't care! He's being unfair. I just wanted to go see the human girls up close."  
"Kiku is General of the Army for a reason. My father was close to making him a Supreme Naval Officer on top of that title. Being loose was not in the job qualification." Nichiko nearly glared at Cheng. Of course his father nearly-- blast this man. Him and his royal lineage. Yong leaned forward now, looking back at Kiku room before muttering in the universal tongue Cheng and Nichiko were now speaking.  
"Nini, you're lucky. He made me once dunk my head in a water bucket until I couldn't breath. Repeatedly! It was awful!" Hyon, at Yong's side, looked up from the blade he had been polishing. Brushing back a strand of long hair, the boy sighed and spoke. His voice was soft, almost inaudible, and came out with a mumbling quality.  
"That is because you argue with him. You need to learn to respect authority. Both of you." Yong looked back at his brother with a scowl and shoved his arm. Cheng clicked his tongue sharply against the roof of his mouth in warning.  
"Sorry I don't constantly kiss ass like you, Hyon."  
"Honda!"  
"It was a joke, come on!" Hyon didn't seem to find the joke funny and rather pressed his lips into a straight line and went back to polishing the already long since polished sword in his clutches. Yong gave a snort of a laugh, looking down and covering his mouth. Cheng frowned at this display and sighed once more. They were tiresome, these three, but they were still very young. Granted Nichiko was only about three hundred years younger than himself. It must have been the extreme age difference between her and her uncle that caused such clashing. There was a good reason that Kiku had not mated off with anyone or sired children. He simply was not good with them. And these were the closest he was getting to hatchlings. Hyon and Yong had only just finished their cloaks nearly ten years ago. They were barely adults. Although the sixty years Hyon had on Yong appeared to give him infinitely more maturity. Perhaps Hyon was naturally just calmer and more focused than his brother.  
"You are all very testing. Be still and silent, for if only a couple hours. You'll give me a headache with your bickering."  
"Yes sir." The answer came in unison and a silence fell over the foreigners. Thus was the conclusion of this day. Alfred and Matthew did eventually return to their room in time for Alfred to go off with Francis to do a simple experiment while the younger boy took a much needed nap. The day ended with Mikyla bringing the boys dinner, a limp in her step from all the walking she had done that day and a yawn in the back of her throat. And the so the night passed with little difficulty, the occasional nonsensical dream that passed by through the children's heads. When morning arrived the dawn was slow to progress, taking its time to creep up upon the city of Oxford.  
When the biological clock finally chimed on those tucked away from the light of day, the reaction was immediate. Among the first to act upon this was Arthur who propped himself up on his elbow with a groan that led into a yawn. In the bed next to him another person moved and reached out to try and find the flip switch to ignite the oil lamp. When it was flicked on, Arthur was already out of bed and at his wardrobe. There was a moment where nothing was said as Arthur sniffed and tried to tug on a button up shirt, fingers working at the ivory buttons groggily. After getting his shirt buttoned up properly Arthur turned back around to check on his bed-mate only to find that they had fallen back asleep with one hand on the bedside table and a leg kicked out from under the covers.  
“Sampson... Sampson!” The second shout was enough to rile the brunet out of his slumber as he nearly fell out of the bed in his haste to respond.  
“ ‘mmup!” Rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes to dislodge the sleep crust from them, Sampson grabbed pillow off the bed and used it to cover himself. This only garnered a roll of the eyes from Arthur who was now tugging on underwear and going for pants.  
“Sampson, get rid of the pillow. It isn’t as if I haven’t seen you in the nude before. Hurry and get dressed or go back to your room, would you?” Blinking slowly, Sampson stared blankly at Arthur before his gaze drifted over to Voxilamort. She was already prancing around and stretching her limbs while Adelaide was still trying to crawl her way out of bed. Rather unsuccessfully at that. Not much of morning people, Sampson and her. Heaving a yawn, Sampson tossed the pillow back to the bed and ran his hands over his face before pushing them back through his hair. While Arthur fastened a belt to the waist of his pants, the other man was busying himself with sluggishly making his way to the change of clothes he had brought with him the previous night.  
“You seemed a bit distracted last night, Sampson. I don’t mean to pry--”  
“Sir, I’m sure you have every intention to pry.”  
“Nm, you must know me a bit too well. I’d swear.” After saying this Arthur ran his hands down the front of his shirt before unbuttoning the cuffs and rolling them up to his elbows, inspecting himself in the mirror of the wardrobe. Sampson was already stepping into his pants now; Adelaide jumped from the bed to stretch her legs.  
“I hadn’t realized I seemed distracted… I was thinking about something other, I suppose.”  
“Not someone?”  
“Sir, I believe on that you have no room to speak.” A strange snorting sound, brief and frankly very abrupt, came from the back of Arthur’s throat at this as his eyebrows arched up. Scanning Sampson over he seemed to conclude something before clearing his throat. The brunet’s silence and currently stoic demeanor meant something.  
“I could assure you, Sampson, that I respect you a bit too much to do such a thing. Or should I put it this way? I’ve got more honor to me than the usual wanker who’ll damn near fuck any broad who looks quite like his deceased mother.” Sampson’s reaction was automatic as he made a face of slightly disgusted humor and turned to look at Arthur, brow drawn together. Arthur merely gave a slightly questioning smile in return to which Sampson shook his head with a huff of a laugh and resumed dressing himself.  
“I spend so much time hearing you speak formally that, I’d swear, I near forget your foul mouth.”  
“I’m frankly insulted you would forget I’ve got the mouth of the common sailor. It’s a very vital part of my charming personality, Sampson.”  
“Charming indeed. You know, I once idolized you?”  
“Are you saying you don’t anymore? Now, now, I’d find that a hard lie to swallow.” There was a pause as Sampson concentrated on tucking his shirt into his pants properly. In this lapse of quiet, Arthur came right over and yanked the brunet’s shirt out of his pants the second he got them tucked right. The look of genuine insult on the man’s face was enough to bring a sneering smile to Arthur’s face as he brought one eyebrow up in question.  
“Oh, love, do try to not look as if I’ve insulted your mum.” Patting Sampson on the face, Arthur gave a fond sigh as the brunet’s mouth pulled into a slight pout.  
“You’re jesting with me, sir, you must be. You’re always like this, nights after. Do I really put you in such a good mood you insist on playing games?”  
“You should like to flatter yourself.”  
“What does that imply, if you don’t mind me asking.” The clipped words made Arthur actually laugh.  
“It’s a yes, if you’re too befuddled. Is there one man alive that doesn’t find himself with a skip to his step after a good night?”  
“I find I’m not particularly skipping.”  
“Not yet, you’re not.” Despite Arthur's well meant attempts to play around, Sampson still found himself upset. He knew why he was upset of course and he knew that Arthur knew. They had discussed it earlier the previous day. It was an inevitability, of course, for this to happen; it still brought Sampson's usual chipper mood to a very low simmer. Arthur was quick to rest his hand on Sampson's shoulder upon decided that he had to attempt to fix the man's mood in another fashion.  
"Sampson, look. I understand you're fairly downtrodden right now but are you honestly going to spend the whole day moping? It's simply a year's time."  
"I understand, sir, I do. I honestly do. I can't help it. If I could control my own moods, I feel life would be very simple for me." There was a forlorn sigh as Sampson put his hand to the one Arthur hand on his shoulder and grasped it gently.  
"It would be a fucking breeze if such was the case, I'm aware. Think of it this way. You're the only one I trust enough to teach him in my stead."  
"Which, I'm honored. I'd never dreamt of being the one to teach the lad anything other than basic manners in the little time I get to see him." Arthur switched his hold on Sampson's hand now and brought the man's knuckles to his lips. He seemed to dip into though momentarily before lowering Sampson's hand again and rubbing a circle on it with his thumb.  
"You will make quite the father one day, Sampson, if you ever do get tired of my old hide."  
"Then it seems a father a might never be." Arthur held eye contact with Sampson after this was uttered and merely released his hand before bumping his own knuckles to Sampson's chest.  
"You know, one day your loyalty will be your undoing."  
"You mean, you will be my undoing?"  
"Precisely."  
"Sir--"  
"See, you're too good a man. Too damn good to be an angel even, you know?" As Arthur continued talking Sampson well quiet, allowing him to speak. "I swear sometimes that you were sent to torment me, Sampson. You are too good a man and you were too good a boy. How long has it been?"  
"Twenty years." Sampson's answer came out as a whisper, drawing Arthur's attention back to him, as he had started to walk away while he was talking.  
"Twenty years is a very long time, Sampson."  
"Do you recall? I nearly fell off the ship trying to leap upon it. Was because my father had kept me extra time to finish mending the last of the shoes in queue."  
"I do recall. You made a right example of yourself. We were just leaving port."  
"And you just walked right up as if you had all the time in the world and yanked me back aboard." A soft laugh was released after this as Sampson ran a hand over his face and sighed. Arthur tilted his head slightly at this and stepped back over to the brunet, inspecting him.  
"Ah, Arthur, you really are a dumb man at times." Upon Sampson uttering his name, Arthur seemed to relax near to the point of collapsing. The petty insult was unheard and he simply reached to grasp Sampson by the chin and bring him into a kiss. It was on the chaste side but lasted several seconds before the two pulled apart.  
"Sampson, you are a true fool. For that I could never thank you enough. I know parting is easier said than done, but I'm assure you that whatever worries you have will be quelled. Besides, with those bloody lizards with me who in their right mind would try to bring harm to a single soul in the company?"  
"Do have some respect for the FireBorn, sir; you are right, as usual. As your second-in-command I will make my most." Arthur gave Sampson's face a soft pat and smiled. It was then that Voxilamort gave a soft butt of her head to the back of Arthur's knees and cleared her throat.  
"Didn't we have business to attend to?"  
"Ah, of course. The liza-- Ahem, FireBorn. I should go and make sure they didn't crawl into the pipes overnight. Sampson, go find Bonnefoy. Inform him of the changes I have made to the boy's regimen and then locate him."  
"Yes sir." Adelaide lept up to stand by Sampson as he straightened his posture and nodded sharply. Arthur clapped a hand to Sampson’s shoulder at this point and then turned to exit the room quickly with Sampson on his heels. The two went up the hall together before going opposite directions. Arthur was quick to make his way up the flight of stairs that went straight to the upper floor. Upon making his way to the room he knocked on the door and waited to have it open.  
“Good morning, Treasurer.” Cheng Liang tilted his head slightly and looked Arthur over with a slight smile still stuck to his face. He had been up most of the night, simply meditating in silence while the others slept. To have Arthur greeting him with a good morning amused him slightly. That and the fact Arthur was surprisingly chipper sounding.  
“Good morning to you too as well, Lord Kirkland. I trust that you slept well?”  
“I slept exceptionally well last night. Never been better, which is good. We have a very long journey back to your homelands. Are the others still present?” Cheng moved out of the way as Arthur casually entered the room without invitation. Kiku was still in his room, likely starting the day off with tea. It was known that none of them would ever leave for long trips without an adequate supply of tea leaves to last them through their time.  
“They are present. I assure you that we did not crawl into any pipes in the middle of the night with some plan to escape you.” Arthur turned around to look at Cheng, brow furrowed in confusion as Cheng merely tilted his head to one side. His smile widened as he lifted his eyebrows up.  
“Well, good. I would hate to have to yank any of you out tail first from some slimed and rusted pipe.” It was then that one of the younger FireBorn came from their room, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye as he yawned. Arthur looked him over once, noting that he was very very nude aside from his cloak, and then proceeded to clear his throat.  
“Yong, we have company. Do try to make yourself decent.” Yong looked over to Cheng and Arthur blearily, blinking slowly at the two other men before realizing what was going on and quickly backtracking into his room again. Cheng said nothing on it but merely turned back to Arthur with that usual smile on his face.  
“Pardon that, Lord Kirkland. I know that your customs in the west are a bit different than those in the East. He meant no insult.”  
“I’m sure the boy didn’t. And I think none of your customs can quite surprise me at this point, trust me.” Arthur finally looked back up again now that he was assured that Yong was gone, clearing his throat and brushing off the front of his shirt compulsively. Kiku then came from his room, clad in garment that Arthur recognized immediately as what he had been explained to was a kimono. Apparently common garb from where Kiku hailed from. The clothing didn’t make much sense to arthur as he found it looked quick like a cross between a woman’s dress and a set of bath robes. Not that his opinion meant much of anything. That article of clothing itself was probably older than the lands which he called his home.  
“General, good morning. It’s a pleasure to see you awake and clothed.” Kiku looked at Arthur, unblinkingly, and said nothing in response. Cheng coughed softly in the silence and apologized for the noise. When Kiku finally spoke it was when Nichiko stuck her head from her room and made a valiant attempt to spy on the conversation on-going.  
“Morning to you, Kirkland. The others are all awake, Wang?”  
“That they are, General. Yong had just wandered out several seconds before your entrance wearing nothing short of his soul and skin.”  
“Charming.” Kiku said nothing else after that but rather moved over to a spot where it seemed the space was dedicated to the sole purpose of preparing tea. A respectable thing to set aside a spot for. Arthur hadn’t quite gotten used to the fact that apparently the whole idea of tea had originated from the FireBorn and had been accidentally leaked into the Western World by Witches who had crossed paths with the FireBorn at some point in history.  
“Today is our day of departure as you know, General.” “The day is young. I refuse to rush.” Kiku slowly lowered himself to his knees while he said this, kneeling in front of the tea set as he uncapped a jug of water and lifted the tea kettle in one hand, pouring the water into it and then retrieving the tea leaves. They were carefully put inside of an expertly made silk cloth pouch which was admittedly better than anything that the English had managed to do with their tea bags. The introduction of silk into the Western World was going to be huge, Arthur could feel it.  
“Understandable, General. I suggest we leave by noon at latest.” Nichiko groaned at this and finally came out of her room now, clad in a new set of clothes. Mens’ pants and a form fitting shirt with a high cut straight collar that crossed across the chest. Arthur quickly noted her, looking her over with a slightly distasteful look to his features before going neutral. He would never be able to understand why this woman insisted on wearing men’s clothing.  
“Duly noted. I expect you to have all preparations done by then so I, my underlings, and my associate may board immediately.” The metal touching Kiku’s palm was starting to glow hot and Arthur watched in unrestrained interest as the water was quickly brought to a boil and then the tea bags added to the bubbling water inside the kettle-esque instrument. Nichiko at this point started to complain in that tongue again, talking to Kiku.  
"Uncle, what do you mean we are leaving already? I've hardly gotten to explore any of this Western world! I do not want to leave yet!" Kiku did not answer but instead sighed in aggravation at his niece's whining. It was exhausting. Sometimes he felt rue towards his brother for siring such a child. While Kiku silently complained, Arthur criticized, and Cheng sighed, Sampson was just leaving Francis' presence.  
The talk had gone surprisingly well, Sampson had found. Francis only glanced at the rather quickly darkening mark that was on Sampson's partially exposed collarbone and didn't ask any questions on it although they both had silently acknowledged the elephant in the room. Francis had seemed not exactly troubled about Alfred being removed from his immediate care. That in itself wasn't a surprise to Sampson. When he had first met Francis Bonnefoy the man had seemed young and full of passion despite being your rather average scholar otherwise. Now the man's age was starting to catch up with him a bit and he seemed mostly tired. Less youthfully handsome and more maturely comely now. Now all that was left was to find Alfred and his little friend. Sampson was sure Alfred would be fairly excited if not at least a bit confused at having Sampson as his new teacher and instructor. Perhaps mentor was a good word for it?  
When Sampson arrived at Matthew and Alfred's joint room he found the older boy wide awake, curtains open to accept the rising dawn and knees pulled up to his chest. Lysimanche was nowhere to be seen but Sampson could guess she was simply tucked away in the blond's clothing. Alfred noticed Sampson automatically, having looked to the door the second it moved. Matthew must have been the lump under the covers next to Alfred, Ottium likely under the blanket with him.  
"Fred? You're up already, ai? That's good practice; you look like you haven't slept at all." Alfred didn't respond at first and merely blinked before looking to the window. Right, it was morning.  
"I did, sort of. Not important. You and uncle are leaving, already?" Alfred rubbed at his eyes blearily, blinking at the brunet as he slowly slid out of the bed and paced over to him. Sampson smiled at the younger Kirkland. the boy came right up to Sampson and groggily hugged the man, face buried into his chest and Lsyimanche squeaking shrilly from somewhere in his clothes. Sampson pat Alfred’s back gently before speaking, a laugh humming its way out of him.  
“Not quite, Freddy. Your uncle is departing today but…” There was a delay taken as Alfred tried to comprehend what was just said to him. When it clicked in his slightly disorientated mind he withdrew away quickly and gawked up at Sampson. Adelaide’s tail started to wag now as she bared her teeth in a grin at Alfred. From the bed Matthew stirred only slightly before falling still again. Alfred’s face slowly broke into a confused smile as he arched up his eyebrows at Sampson.  
“You’re staying…? You aren’t going with him? But... why?” Dropping to his knee infront of Alfred, Sampson ruffled the boy’s hair and adjusted his shirt.  
“Yes, I am staying, you’re quick to that at least, lad. I’ll explain more once you’ve slept a little longer. You seem tired, lad. Give yourself at least twenty minutes to sleep, alright?” Alfred only blinked in response at first before nodding slowly. Sleep sounded nice, it really did. Alfred could hardly remember the exact reason he had managed to wake up this early in the morning without assistance. He just remembered waking up sweating with the blankets pulled a bit too tightly around himself. He had actually been up around a couple hours now, having had time to escort himself to the toilet to alleviate himself before washing his hands, face, and then returning to the room. He had nearly taken a shower but then decided that he couldn’t stand the thought of dousing himself in cold water so early.With Sampson smoothing his hair down and patting his face, Alfred sighed and took a step back.  
“Off to bed now, I’ll wake you later, I promise. Don’t forget you’ll have to make sure to say goodbye to your uncle.” “What if I don’t want to?”  
“Now, Alfred Fredrick, we all have to do things we do not want to. Give your uncle some pardon. He is trying.” This answer didn’t satisfy Alfred very much. In fact it aggravated him slightly. He didn’t want to talk to his uncle, but then thinking about it again as he turned to went towards his own bed for once-- well, maybe he could spare it. As harsh as his uncle was and as much as he got on Alfred’s last nerves he was family. If Sampson insisted he be nice, then he’d be nice if only for a little while. That seemed fair, he thought as he haphazardly crawled underneath the chilly blankets of the unoccupied bed. Alfred managed to catch Sampson watching him from the doorway, hands working at what he guessed was a pocket watch, and then saw him leave silently.  
Lysimanche came from Alfred’s night pants now, nose quivering as she scampered over Alfred’s pelvis and up to his stomach and then his chest. It was there that she changed forms to a slightly bigger rodent and settled in place, ears pressed back against her head and legs pulled under her body. Alfred patted her, tucking his free hand behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. There was something bugging him, nagging at the back of his thoughts. Something about a dream he had dreamt up before waking up so suddenly. He couldn’t recall it entirely. Actually, he didn’t truly recall it at all. He just knew he had dreamed. Despite this thought bothering Alfred the boy managed to drift off into slumber again.  
In the meantime Matthew was dreaming his own dreams. It was dark in his dream as it normally always was. He didn’t quite make sense of why it was always so dark in his dreams but he assumed there had to be some reason. Maybe it was nighttime? Who know. There was a dim light, as if it were twilight, and around him Matthew could make out trees. They were a lot bigger than any trees Matthew had encountered in his time on Earth. In fact, with the amount of coverage they had against the sky Matthew had to wonder where exactly the majority of this light was coming from. Surely not from above him.  
Squinting into the dark Matthew could feel himself breathing. He was hyper aware of the state of his body. His limbs felt too long, too heavy, and his chest-- it was expanding and contracting with each breath he took. Swallowing, Matthew blinked if at least in his dream and slowly turned himself. In the waking world he had turned over onto his other side completely. He spent the next couple minutes seeming to turn in endless circles and coming upon a new scenery each time. It made little sense and the weird break of reality make the boy disorientated even in his dream. It was then that he came face to face with someone.  
The girl from his previous dreams was standing right there, nose to nose with him. Well, not so much nose to nose with him. She was much shorter than he remembered her being and in a fearsome gesture she bared her teeth at him. They were much too sharp and long and briefly Matthew wondered how they had fit in her mouth to begin with. Her gums were a strange dark pink color that was closer to black than the healthy pink of normal gums. It was slightly sickening and Matthew could feel a gasp rip its way out of his lungs as his too long legs struggled to move and take a step back.  
“You moron. Who do you think you are? Who do you think you are!?” Her voice sounded far away and muffled and Matthew would one day learn that it was the exact way a voice sounded like when you were underwater. Her lips closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him, blonde hair wild around her face as her brow came together severely. Matthew couldn’t make sense of this and tried to take another step back only to have his foot catch on something. He fell heavily onto his rump with a huff and a grunt, staring at his bare knees. When had they gotten so knobby and large? When did his legs get to be this thick? Was that hair on them?  
“You can’t just take things that aren’t yours. You can’t just take things that don’t belong to you! Idiot! Are you listening to me?” Bewildered at the girl’s scoldings, Matthew looked back up at her to find something a bit more frightening in her stead. A great wolf was prowling towards him with its lips pulled into a snarl and jowls dripping with pink saliva. The sound of his own heart hammering in his chest was deafening. The wolf released a long rumbling growl that sent shivers down Matthew’s spine and in a moment of panic Matthew wondered where the Hell Ottium was. He couldn’t feel him, but it didn’t feel like he was being pulled away or was too far from him. He just wasn’t there.  
Closing his eyes tightly, Matthew waited for the worst. It took him several moments to realize he was not awake but he was not in the weirdly excruciating agony that was being hurt in your dreams. Opening his eyes Matthew was forced to blink them rapidly as his pupils were assaulted by a sudden amount of light. At first he wasn’t entirely sure where he was but as his eyes adjusted and he looked around he found that he was standing in the middle of an empty white wasteland. His skin felt numb to the touch but he could just barely make out that he was cold. Very very cold. Looking around to make sure neither the girl nor the wolf were present, Matthew looked skyward and was faced with something stupefying.  
The night sky above him was dappled with stars that were currently being outshone by the most impressive thing Matthew had ever witnessed-- in his dreams or out of them. Waving and dancing bands of multicolored light were stretched from one end of the visible earth to the other. For a moment Matthew completely forgot he was dreaming and could only marvel at what he was seeing. It was truly beautiful and in his slumber he wondered where he had seen it before.  
“You can’t. This wasn’t meant for us. Not us.” The voice of the girl jarred Matthew as he spun around to face the girl again only to find himself staring into nothing. She wasn’t there. Ottium still wasn’t there either. What seemed like a blink led to Matthew staring at the ceiling in confusion. He was awake. His dream started to fade from memory the second he blinked for the second time to make sure he was awake. What a strange, strange dream he had had. Or so Matthew would think if he could remember any of it. So it was that at that moment Matthew promptly decided it was too early for him to be awake if Alfred was still asleep. Clutching Ottium to himself closely, Matthew shifted and closed his eyes again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long wait, a lot of crying, even more future planning, and a heap of school induced stress I, your dutiful author, finally release the next chapter of DtD! ( ; v ; ) I'm crying while writing this, actually. (Mainly because my laptop broke in the middle of revising)  
> I don't have much to say other than sorry for the wait! As always I'll have started Chapter 7 directly after publishing this newest chapter so hopefully that chapter will be out by December at latest. Sorry for any errors made writing wise in this chapter!  
> Also a cool reminder that the 1 year Anniversary of Dust to Dust will be coming up as of January 22nd, 2016! Thanks for sticking with me guys.  
> As always, thank you for reading and don't forget to bookmark, subscribe, kudos, or comment-- whatever your heart so desires! You're the best, don't forget it!  
> Adios!


	7. Back Again

The summer that had brought change to the lives of two boys was rapidly dissipating. In its stead it brought an approaching autumn that held much promise for pleasantly chilly weather to ease the still burning skin of most and the coming of the holiday season. Besides these obvious seasonal changes there was more to be observed in the morphing lives of Alfred Kirkland and Matthew Bonnefoy. After a short and half-hearted parting message with Arthur, Alfred had been thrown very quickly into an entirely new routine than he was used to.  
Sampson was a patient teacher, the boy would find, but he was infinitely more involved than Francis had been and kept a tight watch on the growing boy. Alfred was often kept from the time he woke until the time he slept, making it difficult for him to spend time with Matthew. This proved to be incredibly inconvenient for the two of them as suddenly Matthew was left without his roommate,best friend, and also without his teacher. Francis, having been mostly relieved of his duties to Alfred, now had no solid reason to excuse himself from his own studies to teach Matthew.  
Presently, it was the dead of night. Matthew was seated at the table of his room with a lamp at his side as he frustratedly tried to do his work. These papers were nothing that Francis had left behind for him but rather old algebra work that Alfred had done and been given back. The extensive amounts of work done and crammed along the margins of the paper revealed the answers and how to get them; Matthew, all the same, tried his hardest to work the problems himself. Ottium was in the form of a bat, hanging upside down from the ceiling presently and silently let Matthew fume to himself.  
The door was opened at this point and a very exhausted looking Alfred tumbled into the room, a mess of damp hair and wrinkled clothes. A fresh bandaging was on his hands and he was carrying Lysimanche. She was currently in the form of a short yellow coated dog and was sagging heavily in the boy's arms as he huffed and halted after kicking the door closed.  
"Matthew?" Alfred dropped Lysimanche unceremoniously and the daemon whined as she landed on the floor and picked herself up. She shook herself and panted, tongue lolling out of her maw. Matthew didn't look up at first and Alfred's famous look of insult found its way to his features. When the younger boy finally looked up he jolted back in shock; Alfred had moved to the table and was standing over him, looking down at the papers he was working on. Matthew pushed at Alfred's chest with a noise of complaint, considering Alfred being so close he could smell the soap he had used being a bit too close. Alfred hardly budged at the shove.  
“Is that my old work? Matthew, it’s nearly midnight. What are you doing awake and with my old math work?” There was a noise of pure frustration as Matthew shoved Alfred again and finally got the boy to move away. He felt irritated for no real reason seeing as Alfred hadn’t really done anything. The older boy reacted to Matthew’s reasonless shoving and agitation poorly, scowling at him and tossing his head to get his bangs out of his eyes.  
“Wow, nice answer, Matthew. Fine, whatever, but put that lamp out. I’m tired and you staying up to stare at math problems--”  
“Just go to bed, would you?” Ottium made an angry chirping noise from above them and Lysimanche shuffled in spot, looking from Alfred to Matthew in silence before whining something to her companion. He didn’t seem to even bother with it at first before she whined again and he gave in.  
“Look. Staying up like this isn’t going to do you any good. Please? Go to sleep? I am too, so it’s not like I’m going to draw on your face or anything.” Alfred’s attempt at a joke made Matthew give a dry laugh. Alfred smiled slightly at the laugh, not catching the hint of sarcasm behind it, and held out a hand to Matthew. The younger blond didn’t take it but did stand, pushing the papers back and sighing to himself. How long had he been staring at the same problem now? Too long, that was for sure. Alfred moved out of the way and started to strip, walking over to the dresser to presumably change into his night clothes. Matthew had already done so a while ago before sitting down at the table-- just in case he had fallen asleep there.  
“You still haven’t told me why you were copying my old worksheets, you know.” Matthew had already crawled into bed, Ottium dropping from the ceiling to come join him, and upon hearing Alfred inquiry again Matthew only whined noisily.  
"It's nothing. Be quiet."  
"No! I want to know, really, I do." Tugging his shirt on over his head Alfred was quick to jump onto Matthew's bed. For a moment Matthew considered pretending to sleep in order to get Alfred to shut up. Upon further consideration he realized it wouldn't work; Alfred was likely to shake him awake to answer anyways. Oh, calamity.  
"Practice. I was practicing." The words came out in a grumble that Alfred leaned over to hear better. A pause punctuated the conversation as Alfred processed what he had been told. Then the weight on the bed from Alfred's body was gone. Waiting a second Matthew turned over and propped himself on an elbow to see the faint outline of Alfred in the dark. He was doing something. He then was back in Matthew's bed, feeling out in the dark only to end up smacking the younger boy in the face. A soft sorry was given before Alfred pat Matthew's face.  
"Hey, I want to ask Sampson for a day's break. We haven't had any time to spend together. Maybe I can help you with that math, like we used to. Yeah?" Matthew sighed wearily and settled back down on his stomach, head resting in his arms while Alfred kept petting his hair.  
"If he says no, then you will?..."  
"I was thinking of sneaking off then. Unless I can convince him to let you come with me instead. You know how to do push-ups?" Matthew frowned in the dark, eyes already having closed as he fought to stay awake-- if just to actually keep his first real conversation with Alfred in the past couple months going. He tried to murmur out his response to this but Alfred only hummed back in inquiry, not having understood.  
"I can learn... I think." Alfred laughed quietly and slid down to hunker under the thin covers. Soon they would have to add quilts to the bedding. Scooting up next to Matthew, Alfred puffed air through his nose. Lysimanche was perched on the headboard already; she was making quick work of going to sleep. Alfred stayed awake for several more minutes, even after Lysimanche had dropped off and Matthew's breathing became heavy and rhythmic. He knew Sampson would come in during the very early morning as he always did and wake Alfred up for their morning run. It was an entire lap around most of the college perimeter that brought them up to where Alfred was required to do push ups, sit ups, and a variety of other things he honestly didn't entirely enjoy. The very thought brought a reluctant insistence to Alfred.  
All of that would have to wait given Alfred was quick to sleep, dropping from awake to deep slumber in a matter of minutes. Such a deep slumber warranted no dreams, although Matthew could not count himself so lucky. Fitful in his slumber, turning over and over in his sleep with Ottium writhing as well, Matthew was brought to a strange dreamscape. Certainly not the strangest he had ever been to, but that could change at any moment given the nature of dreams.  
The landscape was barren. There was a harsh sun overhead, large in the sky and a blinding white. Compared to the usual dim and dreary settings of his dreams, Matthew was having a hard time dealing with all of this brightness, blinking rapidly and trying to shade his face. Ottium was nowhere to be seen but Matthew could feel him, as if he were right behind him. It wasn’t as comforting as if he had been visible but it did help a bit. Murmuring could be heard, ominous and violent even if it was distant sounding. Once Matthew had manage to get his dreamer’s eye adjusted to the sunlight pouring down, he started to inspect the desert he was in. That was what they called these things wasn’t it?  
As most deserts were this one was composed mainly of off-white and light brown cracked earth and sand with no real vegetation in sight. Not a cloud drifted by in the sky to offer a form of relief from the malicious rays of the sun above. Turning stiffly Matthew felt his chest tighten and stomach drop at the sight before him. A serpentine creature with wings splayed about it, bloated and grunting as it writhed atop shrunken corpses of familiar folk. It felt like silence was suffocating him, but the murmurs did not quiet. They persisted and seemed to grow more insistent even as Matthew stood still.  
Atop the back of the groaning blood drunken creature was a person, live with deep earthen toned flesh as if they had been crafted of fresh river silt. Swirls of dusty sand and red clay seemed to split the tones and lighter but no less dark browns were littered in patches about her-- For a woman she was, with long black hair so deep a shade that it could appear to be a forest green. It feel over her bare back, which was facing Matthew, and was pulled over her shoulder as well. Woven into the mane of hair were what appeared to be apple blossom flowers and ivy, that of the poison variety. Matthew simply stared and let his heart hammer away at the insides of his ribs. Ottium shared in this panic. Looking from the woman and the bodies crushed beneath the beast she sat atop, Matthew felt terror swell in him.  
The woman paid him no real mind, although Matthew heard her laugh. It was a deep, throaty sound with a hint of sultry amusement. Matthew feared her like he had feared no woman before. Not for her looks, for she was beautiful beyond words despite not showing her face-- Nay, but for her aura. She was dangerous. Ancient, something not quite right. Something that shouldn’t belong. Worse yet, Matthew could feel her subtly pulling him in. He had already taken two steps forward towards her and her terrible mount involuntarily. What was to stop him none other than that familiar too tight grip on his forearm.  
“Not so fast, you dolt.” The voice was the same as it always was. Not Ottium and not his own-- it belonged to no one he had ever met before but in that moment it brought him comfort as he felt nails dig into his skin and tug. Letting her pull him away, Matthew closed his eyes tightly and tried to will this visage away. When he opened his eyes again there was nothing there. Well, to an extent. Bright eyes were inches away from his own and he could feel the lack of breath on his face, see how she wasn’t breathing and yet remained completely conscious. She didn’t blink at him even as he blinked at her.  
Just as Matthew watched the girl open her mouth, revealing a bit of black contrasted by white teeth, he awoke. For several moments he stared at the backs of his eyelids, trying to fall back asleep. What had just roused him? Grunting softly, he succeeded in turning over and letting Ottium reposition himself. It was at that very moment that loud banging jolted him into complete awareness and Matthew sat up with a start. Ottium burrowed his way out from under the covers with a chirrup of disapproval, shaking his snout to and fro as he bared his teeth.  
Alfred was standing there by the dresser, which in itself was odd enough. Matthew would have thought him to be gone already-- off to spend the day with Sampson per the norm of things. Lysimanche was standing off the side in the form of a deer, ears lifted as she swung her head to stare at Ottium and Matthew. Alfred kept his back turned to the two, hand resting on a drawer of the dresser.  
“Sorry. I was indecisive.” Indecisive about whether to open or close the drawer? Bullshit. Matthew just shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging out the tangles that had developed overnight. He really did need to have it trimmed soon. It was getting terribly long and partially unmanageable at this length. Moving to get out bed, Matthew banged his toes directly into the nightstand.  
“Hell!-- Why is the nightstand pulled out?” Matthew quickly pulled his foot back in, biting his bottom lip as he tried to clutch the pain away. Alfred muttered something before simply apologizing, pacing over to Matthew and peering at him blankly before pushing the nightstand back against the wall with a tad bit of difficulty. Matthew frowned tightly and took a deep breath.  
“What time is it?”  
“Ten after seven. Your foot okay?” Alfred had moved back over to the dresser, stripping off his current shirt to replace it for something a bit heavier. A long sleeve wool shirt with a v-neckline. Matthew grunted his response and put his unhurt foot forward first now, slipping out of bed as Ottium lept from his weasel form to land on the floor in the shape of a grizzly looking bear.  
“It’s… It’s fine. Did you already talk to Mister Sampson?” Alfred didn’t answer at first, being too busy tugging on pants to answer apparently.  
“Yes. He’s waiting outside the door actually. Are you going to get dressed or just stand there and ask questions? We haven’t got all day, Matthew.”  
“Sorry?” Matthew’s brows arched in surprise at Alfred’s words as he blinked. Alfred managed to smile slightly at this, having appeared a bit grave before with his serious expression.  
“Well, aren’t you coming with?” Seeing Alfred smiling, Matthew had a hard time trying to keep cross with him. Honestly, this boy was lucky he had such an infectious happiness-- he would be quite the unbearable person otherwise. Sighing, Matthew ran his fingers through his hair once more and frowned to himself.  
“I’m not even dressed. He’s outside?”  
“Yeah, and you can get dressed. Just hurry up about it, alright? Come on! It’ll be nice to have someone besides Sampson to talk to for once. Plus, you said yourself we don’t see one another anymore.”  
“This is our chance.” Matthew mused blankly, looking to the window. Alfred moved to stand near Matthew, clapping a hand onto the younger boy’s shoulder. A familiar gesture. Matthew was spooked slightly at the height difference between himself and Alfred. When had he sprouted up to be so tall? It felt like they had been the same height not long ago. Now it seemed Alfred was an entire head or so taller than him. Alfred seemed to notice the difference as well, not minding Matthew’s self conscious flush, and kept quiet on it.  
“Yeah, it is. So, go get dressed would you?” Matthew nodded quickly, moving away from Alfred to go get his own clothes on. How awful it was, this new found difference. It was making the gap between the two seem even more prominent. Matthew never spent too much time thinking about how Alfred was older than he was, but this surely was a stark reminder. An obvious reminder. A knock came from the door as Sampson cleared his throat.  
“Are you quite done in there, lad? Is Matthew awake?”  
“Yes-- He wants to come with us today.” A pause.  
“Now does he… Well, I suppose that’s alright as long as you don’t get off task. Hurry up now, Fred.” Lysimanche roved over to Ottium with a strange shyness, a hesitance, and Ottium returned the sentiment with an aloof barrier. The two daemons, the bear and the deer, circled one another for a bit. A clear distance was kept between the two of them. Matthew was dressed soon, lacing up his shoes and watching as Alfred did several stretches, calling Sampson in. The man entered upon his cue, first looking Alfred over before looking to Matthew who merely peered up at him through his eyelashes.  
“Morning to you, Matthew Bonnefoy.” Sampson smiled kindly, nodding to Matthew as he swept his bangs from forehead and straightened his shirt. This was the most casual wear that Matthew had seen Sampson in. Without the formal coat, it was clear to see how muscular the brunet actually was. He may have passed his prime youth but his body was clearly still lingering upon it. Periwinkle gaze sliding over to Alfred, Matthew noted that the same kind of definition of muscle was starting to become clearly visible on him as well. Did that mean that Alfred was really becoming a man, if not against his own will?  
“Are you ready yet? I already finished stretching, by the way!”  
“Is that true?”  
“Yes! Don’t think I’m lying, Sampson.”  
“What was that?”  
“Sir.” The word slurred off of Alfred’s tongue awkwardly, especially when he was speaking to Sampson. The brunet merely lifted his eyebrows up and let a smile tweak at his lips, shaking his head at the younger blond. Matthew finally took to his feet and coughed softly, looking between the two of them. Sampson looked at him blankly before realizing that this meant they could get moving.  
“Off we go. It’s a tad bit chilly outside, I might add. You two sure you don’t need coats?” Alfred was already starting to jog in place, kicking at the air and jumping. Behind him, Lysimanche took to the form of a large and thickly furred canine, barking at Adelaide deeply as Ottium slinked back into his usual house-cat form and fled to Matthew’s side.  
“No way! No pain, no gain. Let’s go!” Sampson looked to Matthew after Alfred’s bold declaration, but the younger boy remained silent and gave no sign that he had even heard the man. With that, Sampson turned around and exited the room with Alfred close behind him. Matthew followed slower, seeing as Sampson had longer strides than both himself and Alfred. Alfred was simply quicker than Matthew, keeping up with Sampson fairly easily. When they got to the stairs, Sampson went down them two to three at a time and Alfred actually went sliding down the banister. Matthew merely tried to go down the steep steps without tumbling head over heels in his nervousness.  
Out the front door they went, past a small group of scholars who peered at Sampson in particular from over the tops of their papers. The brunet tossed his hair and smiled at them, waving when they passed. Matthew was already starting to find himself out of breath slightly and was the last out the door. Ottium was loping along dutifully at Matthew’s side, grumbling to himself about this ordeal. Adelaide was happily chattering away as Sampson came to a halt and watched as Alfred ran a couple circles around him. Laughing and remarking about boundless energy, the man leaned over and started to stretch. Matthew huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  
Matthew was the first one to hear muttering, turning back around to see the door of the college still open. Several scholars were peering out rather conspicuously and were clearly watching Sampson stretch. What they were doing this for went right over Matthew’s head, but he worried; they seemed frustrated about this for some reason, which he couldn’t grasp as to why. Whatever it was, the scholars noticed that Matthew had noticed them and the door was quickly closed. Sampson did not appear to have realized any of this and once he was done with his stretches he called to the two boys.  
“Ai, alright! Alfred, you are to do your usual run. Understood? You go ahead and run as fast as you please. Keep in mind to not wander off should you go too far ahead of me. I’ll be staying with Matthew.” Matthew looked up at Sampson and frowned before looking to Alfred. The boy was already looking at him but was quick to return his gaze to Sampson with a nod.  
“Got it. Hey, Matthew, try not to be too slow!” Then without saying anything else both Alfred and Lysimanche went speeding off. Sampson watched him go, laughing softly. Turning to Matthew, he smiled once more and hummed briefly.  
“Ready to go?” Matthew finally found his voice at this time, or perhaps it was simply Ottium’s bristling agitation adding onto Matthew’s determination to do this, and he answered.  
“Yes. Absolutely.” Mildly impressed with Matthew’s persistence, Sampson nodded and started off at a decent walking pace. More of a speed walk than a jog but certainly faster than one would walk normally. Matthew tried to copy the man’s longer strides. Moving quickly, he attempted to pull ahead of him. It barely worked but Matthew still felt accomplished in doing so. Ottium kept up, but occasionally would fall behind before speeding to catch up again. The cold air was a tad bit too much for Matthew but if Alfred could brave it-- and Sampson as well-- he decided he could simply ignore it.  
By the time that the trio had managed to find themselves near the gate, Matthew had realized that this might’ve been a mistake. His feet ached and his legs hurt, his lungs burned from trying to process the cold air around him, and worst of all they were far from done. Alfred was still pushing forward, seeming to be tireless, and Sampson was still moving onward behind Matthew. Ottium snarled at the thought of giving up and asking to go back and thus Matthew found himself forcing his legs to keep moving. What a travesty this was! Ottium had changed into a hardier form, one built for endurance, to give Matthew a little more esteem in what he was undertaking. Time passed on, and on, and on, and on…  
Finally the ‘run’ came to an end-- as really Alfred was the only one running-- and Matthew felt as if his legs were gelatinous. Ottium was fine, if one could take his sitting down and panting at face value. Sampson seemed even less disturbed as he watched Adelaide run in a couple circles to blow off excess steam. Alfred had already dropped into the next part of his work out it appeared, stretching again. Some of the stretches made Matthew’s already protesting body cringe in second-hand. Did Alfred really do this every day? Was it something he enjoyed or was it all Sampson’s doing? Judging from how enthusiastic he was about this all, it might just be the former.  
“Keep your torso steady, don’t bend your knees! Stretch, Alfred-- Matthew, would you like to try? You look limber enough.” Matthew felt his stomach drop at the innocent invitation from Sampson as he watched Alfred touch his toes with relative ease. Slowly he looked down at his own feet and swallowed. Limber, huh? He wasn’t so sure about that. But now Alfred was looking at him, eyebrow raised in questioning as he pulled one arm back behind his head and tugged on it with the other hand.  
“Matthew?” Sampson seemed a tad bit concerned, possibly fearful that Matthew had gone into a breathless fit-- as some children were prone to when exposed to certain things such as strenuous exercise or allergens. What an awful thing it would be if he accidentally ended up with a young boy’s name on the list of people he had brought grievous harm to. Finally Matthew responded with a rapid instinctual nod of the head. He bent over quickly to grab at the toes of his shoes and nearly succeeded. Nearly. His fingers went to grasp them as he had seen Alfred do, but he could barely get his fingertips down his shins all the way.  
“Ah… Not as limber as I thought! “ Matthew gave up at this point, standing up stiffly and taking a gulp of air. He could feel the heat in his face and knew he was probably turning a blotchy red out of sheer embarrassment. He couldn’t bring himself to speak much at all. He feared his voice would fail him. So he remained silent much of the rest of the exercise, watching Alfred complete task after task with ease. He was invited to try the push ups, crunches or sit ups, and even something called a pull up that Alfred seemed to struggle with as well. He denied all of them, especially the final one, and was wholly content to simply observe his friend breaking a sweat.  
By the end of the whole charade, Alfred was tugging at his shirt to unstick the itchy and now damp fabric away from his skin. Sampson had not broken any particular sweat and merely looked down to his watch and concluded that it was time to get moving. Rounding the two boys together he proceeded to herd them back into the building. When Matthew looked to Alfred for answer the boy mouthed the word ‘shower’ back at him. A shower-- more so a nice warm bath-- did sound nice. Of course Matthew found that the whole affair would only last about five minutes max and the only water available seemed to be frigid. Alfred was in then out and had changed his outfit in no time.  
The outfit had been provided by Sampson from the looks of it; it was a simple white cotton shirt and an extra pair of pants. Alfred tugged on his shoe again after exchanging socks for the ones he had been given. Matthew supposed this was a well established system at this point. Dress in something weather appropriate, shower, exchange it for something more comfortable. It worked apparently and they were out of the bathes and making their way elsewhere. Where, Matthew didn’t know. Hell, this was all very new to him. If he could have made sense of any of this he would’ve been much more at peace. Ottium had since shifted forms and was now wrapped around Matthew’s neck with his head tucked away.  
“Ah, here we are. Matthew, you’re quite free to go if you would--”  
“No! I mean, no. He’s not leaving! Right?” The boy jolted at having been acknowledged so suddenly, eyes wide as he moved his mouth wordlessly and looked between Alfred and Sampson. What had they said? Wait, he was staying. Or had he been given the choice not to? Jaw clamping shut he just nodded yes and left it at that, earning a pleased smile from Alfred. Sampson’s brow knit together at the whole gesture as he hummed briefly to himself. He didn’t remember Matthew being such an odd child. Maybe it was something that happened over time. Every family had the odd egg, it seemed-- even the Bonnefoy lineage.  
“Well… We’ll just be going through lessons. Do you happen to have any interest in map making, Matthew Bonnefoy?”  
“I don’t believe I’ve ever considered it, Mister Sampson…” Sampson nodded and went about entering the room that they had all come to. Alfred slipped in first and Lysimanche quickly changed from one form to another, this one being her familiar bright eyed hawk body. Matthew was briefly thankful to see Lysimanche change forms. It was like a dim reminder that Alfred hadn’t quite matured completely. Still a child at heart it seemed. Which was fine with Matthew.  
Now, the room that the trio had entered was a decent sized one. It must have been a study that Sampson had set up second residence, set aside for the sole purpose of Alfred having a proper place to study and work. It was better than doing everything in his room; that place held many distractions. It was much the same in all essence really. It reminded Matthew a little bit of the study, a fact pointed out over again by Ottium who had changed into the form of a large mouse and was jumping about inspecting the room from his lower vantage point. There was a box of medical supplies that Ottium noted before Matthew did and it made a couple questions pop up. What were those for? Just accidents? Maybe they were for strained muscles and sprains that could happen when exercising, Ottium offered. Fair enough, Matthew concluded.  
“Now, I fear that this isn’t going to be the most engaging thing-- Even Alfred has trouble concentrating on the task! So, Matthew, do feel free to simply browse the book shelf. I know you’re quite the bookworm after all.” At Sampson’s suggestion Matthew nodded slowly and let his gaze sweep over to glance at the aforementioned shelf. In the meantime Sampson wrangled Alfred in and had him take a seat. There were a couple complaints to be heard but Matthew and Ottium had already gone straight to the books. There was a real assortment of them-- ranging from books of published plays strung together to the latest scientific theories. Matthew quite frankly didn't know where to start from with such a small but diverse collection.  
Grabbing a random book Matthew peered about to find a place to seat himself, deciding the best spot would likely simply be at table with the others. Slipping into the chair next to Sampson and across from Alfred, Matthew propped the book up and started to read. Alfred in the meantime was frustrating himself with a map of Western Europe and Scandinavia. He didn’t know much about the lands farther north, and he was having a Hell of a time trying to remember any of the names longer than a few seconds at a time. Glancing over at Matthew a couple times, Alfred chewed his lip. Sampson tapping his index finger sharply against the table reminded him to get back to the simple act of naming. He had already drawn the map after all. This should be the easiest part. Especially after having to spend so long redoing all those blasted rivers and the likes. Alfred would throw a fit next time he had to draw a damm river.  
Looking up again to glance at Matthew, Alfred pursed his lips involuntarily and sighed through his nose. Damned him, the kid was reading a map book. Probably had the map he needed in it too. Sampson once more tapped sharply against the table and got Alfred back on task. In the meantime the man had decided to strike up conversation with Matthew.  
“So, Matthew, how have your studies been?”  
“Nonexistent.” The answer was short and to the point, coming from Ottium rather than Matthew. Sampson seemed truly surprised at this and looked to the daemon currently resting atop the table by Matthew’s hand. Ottium twitched his whiskers and pulled his tiny elbows closer to his body as he stared at the man with beady black eyes.  
“Nonexistent?... Well, how come? Has your tutor not--”  
“Don’t have a tutor.” Alfred had paused entirely now, staring at Matthew with his lips parted slightly in his confusion.  
“Not Francis?”  
“Nope.” Adelaide stirred now and popped up on her hind leg,bracing her forepaws on Sampson’s thigh. Matthew, from behind his book, let his gaze move to Alfred. The side-eyed glance made a prickle of cold skim down Alfred’s back as he watched the younger boy look back to his book. This had to be on purpose. Matthew couldn’t possibly be that enamored with that map book.  
“I… I see. That’s unfortunate. Does this mean your education has halted permanently?” Sampson was handling the conversation well despite Ottium’s icy answers on Matthew’s behalf. The daemon rubbed his paws across his snout before answering. Sampson waited patiently in the meantime.  
“Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t think so. I can learn on my own.” Sampson blinked at the answer. Peculiar indeed. Alfred quickly scribbled the last name he needed on the map, labeling the trading central of Elkhelm. It really was out in the middle of nowhere, dangerous close to the arctic land, just barely west of Witch territory, and lying just east of the Panserbjørn’s world. Alfred had to wonder if that was why it was the trading hub, despite its otherwise desolate location and surroundings. Slapping the pen down, Alfred startled Sampson slightly as he opened his mouth to respond to Matthew and Ottium.  
“Next!” Sampson squinted at Alfred, sliding the map over so he could inspect it. Looking it over, the man seemed to be critically searching for errors before relaxing and simply checking the actual qualities of the map. Deeming it suitable Sampson reached over and ruffled Alfred’s hair in an affectionate manner. The boy accepted it with a proud smile and fixed his hair as he glanced over at Matthew. The younger boy was looking at him curiously, face drawn into an expression Alfred couldn’t quite put an emotion to.  
“Believe me or not, but that was actually one of your last maps. You are a diligent worker, Fred. Once you apply yourself you achieve great things.” The kind words from Sampson had Alfred puffing his chest out as he wiggled in his seat slightly. Alfred finally cast a glance to Lysimanche who appeared completely unaffected by the strange behavior of her friends. She simply sat with her head held high and a churring yell of happiness bubbling softly in her breast. Adelaide flashed a toothy smile her way and laughed softly to herself after telling something to Sampson.  
“Let’s see… I nearly expected you to take more time labeling that map, in all honesty. Ah, Alfred, how is your hand? Are your knuckles feeling any better?” Matthew suddenly remembered the bandaging that he had seen on Alfred’s hand the night prior and peered over. The older boy inspected his own hand, running his fingers over the scabs having developed on the wounds there, and sighed exaggeratedly.  
“Yeah, I guess so. They’re okay. Why, are you going to have me spar again? You seemed a bit winded last time I punched you in the gut.” The words were startling to anybody who was not Sampson or Alfred. Alfred did say it was such causality though, going to pick at his nails in a hackneyed display of arrogance.  
“You do pack a bit of a punch when you decide to be a biter, Fred. Mind you I’ve never flat out hit you before.” Sampson brushed Alfred’s show-offy nonsense off like it was nothing, smiling through it and arching an eyebrow up. Alfred seemed surprised at this and looked at Sampson sharply before quickly glancing to Matthew. The younger boy hastily looked back to his book, turning the page. Ah, he had been paying attention. Alfred decided that was good enough for him, hopping to his feet and striding around a couple times before putting his hands on his hips and facing Sampson.  
“You always did like to give a good show. Maybe I can go a little tougher on you now that Matthew is here-- You’ll surely want to show him just how much you’ve learned.” Alfred’s shoulders seemed to tighten as his feet slid along the ground to a proper stance. Sampson adopted his own stance, the similarities between his own and Alfred’s showing. Matthew couldn’t help but look now, setting his book down and leaning forward. Ottium tried to stubbornly keep looking the other way but fell prey to his own curiosity, moving to morph into a rather spindly looking goat. He moved to get a clearer vantage of the spar. Lysimanche landed on his back and pecked at his neck, gently, chirruping at him in a friendly manner.  
“I do not show off! Hey, since you’re being a wise guy why don’t you go all the way. I’m sure I can handle you!” Alfred’s big talk had Sampson arching both brows up. Matthew’s own brow furrowed as he pursed his lips and looked over Alfred with a mixture of concern and general displeasure. What a stupid thing to ask of a grown man who had likely been in more fist fights than some would guess of him. Lysimanche was absolutely no help in restraining Alfred, rather goading him on instead. Sampson shifted his stance slightly and took a step forward, Adelaide panting heavily in what appeared to be stress as she looked from Sampson to Alfred quickly.  
“All out? Are you positive now. I wouldn’t want to deny your request, lad, but you’re still not very good at blocking much less taking an actual hit.” Alfred face only seemed to burn more fiercely at these words. Matthew glanced at Ottium who, for whatever reason, seemed unusually excited to see Sampson hit Alfred.  
“Stop trying to embarrass me! Do it!” Before Sampson could open his mouth to reply Alfred had jumped at him, swinging to punch him in the chest. Sampson, with startling ease, caught Alfred’s hand and twisted. Alfred responded in an effort to escape the painful sensation, turning with the twist and ending up with his back to the man. It didn’t stop there as Sampson knocked Alfred in the back of the knee and forced the boy to the ground. With a powerful writhe Alfred managed to rip his hand free from Sampson grasp and kicked him in the shin as he scrambled away.  
The kick didn’t seem to do much but stun Sampson as he quickly stepped forward and hooked the toes of his boot on Alfred’s stomach and flipped him over onto his back. Taking a moment to realize this, Alfred made a delayed roll as Sampson went to yank him up by the shirt and was on his feet again in no time. Matthew, jaw agape, watched this strange dance with morbid interest. Ottium was bristling, silently rooting for Sampson. The next few steps happened in slow motion. It seemed that Alfred had hit Sampson in the stomach, but then he was being shoved away and before anyone could process what had happened, Alfred let out a shrill noise of pain and stumbled away only to fall to the floor. Sampson automatically responded, sounding panicked.  
“Alfred!? Oh, Hell, your face-- I hit you in the-- Alfred, uncover your nose, please, I need to…” Ottium was practically rude in his exhilaration. Matthew simply stood in his seat slightly to try and view what had happened to Alfred. Sampson had finally pried the boy’s hand away from his face only to cringe. Shit, he had really gotten him good hadn’t he? Be damned if he had accidentally broken the poor child’s nose. If it was even his nose that was bleeding. Sampson couldn’t tell with how Alfred had smeared the blood.  
“Open your mouth, please.” Alfred did as instructed and revealed only bloodied gums and no missing teeth. Hopefully this did mean he had only a bloodied nose.  
“Ai, I’m so sorry, Alfred-- Here, here.” While Matthew hopped from his seat to hover over Sampson and Alfred in interest and concern, a handkerchief was being whipped out from a pant pocket and put to Alfred’s face. Alfred pressed his hands to Sampson's keep the cloth in place as he grimaced to himself. Lysimanche seemed distressed at the development, coming to rest on Alfred’s shoulder.  
“I’m hoping that’s proof enough for you that you’re nowhere near ready for a real fight. Try again in a couple years time, Fred. Now keep that pressed tight to your face, we’re going to have to get you cleaned up. Right, Matthew?” Matthew jolted slightly and stared at Sampson, blinking quickly, and slowly nodded his head. Hesitance. Ottium nodded at Sampson instead and the man sighed to himself.  
Alfred tried his best to keep his blood from leaking everywhere, letting Sampson lead him along while Matthew trailed at his side. The younger boy seemed mystified at the sight of blood, almost as if he couldn’t comprehend it was real. At this point Alfred had seen a bit more of his own blood than he cared to admit. Sampson only sometimes indulged Alfred in the faint idea of actually using full skill in his lessons. Every time ended with Alfred feeling disappointed at how little he had advanced along. Sampson kept patching up injuries to his body and pride but it didn’t help Alfred one bit in the end. He didn’t want to get better at this all eventually. He wanted to be better now. Of course this was foolish, but at his age Alfred was not bound to know much better.  
Arriving at a proper basin and sink, Alfred finally removed the thoroughly soiled handkerchief from his face. Grossly enough a sensation of something being yanked out of his face made him sneeze. Of course this was an awful idea as blood ended up being sprayed everywhere and proceeded to start frothing out his nostrils again. Sampson gave a soft groan of complaint at this and nudged Alfred to lean over the basin properly. Alfred could have sworn he heard Matthew give a soft ‘ew’ of humored disgust. Rude.  
“Mind you, Fred, to avoid ever sneezing when your nose is freshly bloodied. Please.” As if he had meant to sneeze! With hands braced on either side of the basin, Alfred could only let the blood flow from his face and scowl down at it. Sampson turned on the water at this point, the frigid liquid pouring out rather sluggishly. Alfred dreaded it touching his face but before he could get it over with, Sampson put a hand on the back of the boy’s head and tipped it back.  
“This is going to feel rather strange I’m afraid. Bear with me, Fred.” Before Alfred could even get a full breath in to ask what Sampson meant there were fingers up his nose. Of all things for Alfred to experience in his life, this was surely one thing that had never even occurred to him. Not once. Then there was that strange sensation of something being slowly tugged out of his head again. Sampson seemed rather concentrated, not saying a word to Alfred as he did… Whatever it was he was doing. It was over and done with quickly, although sitting through it felt like an eternity. Sampson disposed of what looked like a tendril of solidified blood by tossing it into the flow of water, sending it down the drain.  
The blood flow was gone automatically, only a slight residue trickle having to be wiped away with the little remaining clean space on the handkerchief in supply. Matthew shimmied over as Alfred sniffled slightly and cringed at the scent of iron in his nose. Disgusting, really.  
“What are you smiling at?” Matthew was indeed smiling at Alfred, a full smile. As if he had found something genuinely amusing. On one hand, Alfred felt glad to see him smiling. He hadn’t seen him do so in a while now. On the other, it was slightly irking. Alfred was rather torn on what to feel about that smile. In the end, Matthew merely laughed. Ottium had made his way to Matthew’s shoulder in the form of a small bright blue bird and chirped senselessly.  
“Good job, Alfred. You didn’t pass out!” Was that a compliment or an underhanded insult? Alfred’s mind struggled to comprehend it before settling on compliment. This helped to nurse his wounded spirit slightly but didn’t stop the throbbing sensation in his face whatsoever. It was likely that his nose would swell, even if they had stopped the messier consequence of the strike to his face. Swallowing twice, suddenly having trouble doing so, Alfred slowly smiled back and laughed lightly in response.  
“Did you think I would?”  
“Maybe.” Sampson was standing back, pretending to be inspecting his watch while the two boys briefly conversed. Lysimanche was busy wagging her tail again, now dancing in place by Alfred’s feet in the form of that charming golden coated dog she was prone to when she was in a particularly good mood. Matthew looked down at her fondly and giggled when her tongue lolled out of her mouth when she tried to smile.  
“Well, you can count on me not to; now you know that. Say, did I look cool?”  
“Sort of. You looked like you might start crying, you know. Does it hurt a lot?” Matthew popped up onto his toe, peering at Alfred’s nose curiously. Alfred moved his face, grimacing at the pain of doing so. Matthew cocked his head to the side a bit and mimicked the movement, nudging Alfred’s arm.  
“Does this mean you’re done with today’s lessons?”  
“Maybe,” Alfred side eyed Sampson and raised his voice in an obvious manner. Sampson was already listening, but feigned that he was not. “Sampson, sir, will feel bad for knocking the red out of me… And let me go for the day?” The end of the sentence was in a questioning tone and Sampson looked up, quirking an eyebrow. Alfred took his time with finally turning to make eye contact with the man. Sampson merely squinted at him. There was a long pause and finally Sampson seemed to crack, body relaxing as he sighed.  
“I can’t lie. I do feel bad… And you two, you haven’t… Pah, go ahead! Just avoid knocking yourselves unconscious, would you?” What a stroke of luck. Almost too much luck. If Alfred had known all it would take was a good knock to the face to get him free for a day he would’ve invited Sampson to hit him earlier! Nose still tinted red and aching, the boy turned to his companion and grinned broadly. Matthew at first blinked in surprise before smiling back happily. Sampson laughed to himself at the reactions between the two children and rubbed at the side of his neck.  
“Don’t stand there and look dumpy, you two. Off you go! Go have fun, don’t jump off any docks.” Alfred, in a fit of joy, darted right up to Sampson and wrapped the man in a hug. Sampson seemed surprised at the gesture and got a couple pats to Alfred’s back before the boy parted ways with him. Matthew waved a hasty goodbye to Sampson as Alfred took hold of his hand and started off at top speed. Lysimanche did a loop in the air before sweeping out the room with Ottium on her tail feathers, the two daemons tearing after their counterparts with obvious excitement. Adelaide panted harshly out of nowhere prompting Sampson to look down at her.  
“Ai what? I popped the poor boy in the face!” An accusative look from Adelaide as she shook her head at Sampson and stood. Sampson nearly pouted childishly at his daemon as she yawned widely.  
“I didn’t say anything. Merely thought it!” While Sampson rolled his eyes good-naturedly and continued chatting with Adelaide, Alfred and Matthew were already busy having made it to their room already. They were quite quick on their feet when excited. Alfred had sprung right face first into Matthew’s bed and sighed happily while Lysimanche circled him and eventually landed on his back.  
“What are we going to do then, now that you’re here?” This was Matthew speaking as he climbed onto his bed and subsequently onto Alfred as well. Lysimanche hopped a bit away from him as he laid a hand on Alfred’s back.  
“Mmm… I don’t know!” Alfred propped himself on his elbows now and craned his neck to look at Matthew.  
“I haven’t seen Lovino and Feliciano in ages! We should go visit.”  
“Now?”  
“Now!” Alfred was already hopping up, rubbing gingerly at his nose as he sniffled and skittered around to find a coat. He found one that he used to wear, one that had been passed down to Matthew without his knowledge, and tried to tug it on. Matthew merely laughed at his attempts as he found the shoulders were too narrow and the coat overall too short. He didn’t seem to notice at first until he heard Matthew trying to suppress his laughter. Alfred finally looked down, flexing his back and pulling the fabric across his shoulders taunt. There was a long pause and Alfred absently tried to tug the sleeve down to his wrist only for a loud rip to be heard. The sleeve had torn at the shoulder seam. Matthew gasped and gave a loud clipped laugh.  
“You ripped my jacket!” Alfred gaped blankly as he slowly struggled to remove the coat. Inspecting it carefully he saw he had indeed ripped along the stitching of the shoulder. He spluttered out an attempted apology, embarrassed at having mistaken Matthew’s jacket for his own and then proceeding to ruin it. It was quite a flounder.  
“You can-- You can wear another of mine. Let me just, find it first.” Alfred scurried along sheepishly as Matthew caught the coat the older boy had quickly thrown his way. It wasn’t anything that say, Mikyla, couldn’t have fixed with ease. It was more so the thought that Alfred had simply ripped it by trying to wear it that baffled Matthew. By Gods, how much had Alfred really grown? It couldn’t be much, Matthew assured himself. They were only a couple years apart. Three and a day to be exact.  
“Here!” The coat Alfred tugged around Matthew’s shoulders was… Bigger, to put it bluntly. It was a newer one that Matthew had noticed a couple days after Sampson had started teaching Alfred. So, he had concluded, Sampson must have bought it for Alfred. Hesitantly, Matthew stuck his hands through the arms of the jacket. The sleeves covered his hands to the knuckles. Ottium snorted at this and then went quiet again.  
“Uh.”  
“It’s a bit…”  
“It’s fine! Come on, let’s go!” Alfred was already revving to go, tugging Matthew along in that oh-so-Alfred fashion.  
Out the door they went with Ottium and Lysimanche trailing above in the forms of closely resembling fowls, gliding above the boys as they continued their way out of the building and through the grounds with haste in order to reach the Gate Keeper. At some point during their small quest to the gate, and the respective Gate Keeper, Alfred had dropped Matthews hand and slowed his pace in order to allow Matthew to keep up with him.  
Upon reaching the familiar gate, the two boys came to a halting stop with the realization that the Gate Keeper was nowhere in sight. That was, to say the very least, odd. With glances shared between the boys, Alfred was the first to step up to the gate; looking at the bars with pursed lips.  
“Where do you think the Gate keeper went?” Alfred mused, looking over his shoulder to stare directly at Matthew; he was making his own way forward.  
Matthew hummed, giving a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t know?” With that said the shorter boy reached a hand out to take a hold of one of the bars, slipping past them with Ottium at his feet in the form of a burrowing mouse. Dusting himself off, Matthew took a step away from the gate in order to watch as Alfred made his own way through the bars. He noted that the bars seemed narrower, or perhaps that was because Alfred was growing? Clicking his tongue, he looked ahead and then to Ottium.  
After Alfred had finished with brushing himself off, he returned to Matthew's side before nudging him along, nodding forwards with a boyish grin.  
“Come on, let’s go!” Matthew didn’t have the luxury of responding as they were seemingly off again automatically. He just took a deep breath and went running with Alfred several bounds ahead of him. Ottium once more changed his shape to fit the occasion. Lysimanche had not since changed and instead merely kept an eye on the other daemon from above. Their theatrical jogging didn’t last long, as the Vargas home had never been too terribly far away. With longer legs the distance seemed even shorter.  
Upon arrived at the aforementioned household, it was easy for the two to make out a great clamor within. While Alfred slowed his pace slightly, unsure of what to make of the yelling and general noise, Matthew practically skipped his way right up to the front door and opened it without even knocking. With a pause of momentary hesitation Alfred and Lysimanche trailed after the younger boy. The noise they had heard from outside the house was even louder once they had entered. Michelangelo was running about wildly, Herakles was banging on the bathroom door demanding someone get out, Io was yelling in nearly an identical tone for Feliciano and Lovino to get moving, and Adenah was chasing after Micha pleading with him to stop sprinting around the house and put on clothes-- for he was quite in need of them at the moment.  
It was a mess. Matthew merely waved to Io who was in the middle of making some kind of unidentified dish.  
At first Alfred thought perhaps Feliciano was the one in the bathroom that everybody was trying to get out before the boy waltzed his merry way out of the backroom where the shared bedrooms were. Lovino quickly came bustling past his twin, frantically trying to tie an apron on his waist while he went. Confused and more importantly curious, Alfred eyed Herakles rather than watching as Feliciano rushed Matthew and enveloped the poor boy in a suffocating hug. While Herakles was mid rap on the bathroom door the thing popped open and out came none other than Sadık Adnan. Although Alfred was shocked to see that the traveler was there-- not only still in Oxford but in the Vargas house-- nobody else seemed in the vaguest sense surprised about this. Then again, Alfred supposed, he must have missed a lot in the time he had been gone. What an awful stroke of luck on his part.  
“Alfred!” It was Io who finally noticed that Alfred was there, pausing in what she had been doing to gape at him before quickly coming over to hug him. Alfred found himself at the awful disadvantaged of being the perfect height that his face had no place but to go to Io’s chest. He decided perhaps it was best not to say anything about it, but Lysimanche squawked in secondhand discomfort.  
“Alfred?” With Io holding Alfred still in a vice like grip, the rest of the household had a chance to actually acknowledge his existence. Lovino had just pulled back from giving Adenah a peck on the lips while Herakles could only scowl as a towel clad Sadık continued to sour his mood in a petty and seemingly unintentional manner. Feliciano quickly let go of Matthew to grab ahold of the second Io released him. Feliciano was still taller, unsurprisingly, but only by what appeared to be a handful of inches. Luckily for Alfred the others refrained from trying to hug him; Adenah did wander over closer to greet him, having only momentarily given up her chase after the still streaking Micha.  
“Matthew didn’t tell us you were coming to visit-- It’s great to see you again!” Feliciano was obviously happy to see Alfred again after his long absence. The smile on his face said it all, after all. Alfred smiled back with a laugh, pushing Feliciano off gently and brushing himself off.  
“Well, it was a bit last minute you see-- Sampson hit me in the face and gave me a bloodied nose!” Io zeroed in on this specific sentence and a flabbergasted look presented itself upon her face. Feliciano seemed shocked in his own regards but more interested to hear about the whole ordeal than anything. Matthew looked between those conversing and stepped aside to say hello to Lovino. He had not quite entered himself into the conversation yet, deciding to rather stay out of it now that his mother was getting involved.  
“Who did what to you now?” Alfred didn’t pick up the danger in Io’s tone but Feliciano sure did. What a shame it was that Alfred also didn’t pick up on Feliciano subtly trying to tell him to change the subject.  
“Sampson, he punched me in the nose earlier today, so since he felt bad he let me come to town with Matthew today.” Lysimanche butted in at this point with some much unneeded addition.  
“Well, you were sort of asking for it.”  
“Literally!” Ottium chimed in from Matthew’s side as the boy shushed him. Io was clearly upset, going a bit red in the face as she moved her jaw to and fro. Feliciano shied away from her now, Lia following after him with her tail between her legs. He murmured something about forgetting his case and quickly scurried off, slipping past Sadık and Herakles who had prior been arguing. It appeared even they had gone quiet at Io’s anger.  
“Who’s this Sampson fellow, Alfred, and where can I find him. He sounds like he needs a talking to.” Slowly the gears began to turn in Alfred’s head as he worked the answer over in his mouth and took a moment to think before he spoke. Two and two came together to make four and a long ‘uh’ sprouted from the boy.  
“Madam Io! Wait, Sampson is my teacher. He’s a good friend of my uncle-- They work together. He’s supposed to be teaching me how to fight, and-- Well. Yeah.” This didn’t seem to help Io at all, but she did rein herself in knowing that least she could consider the fact the bloodying of noses was on accident.  
“... Tell him to be a little less rough next time. Is your nose alright now?” Rapid nodding from Alfred.  
“Perfectly fine! I mean, it still aches a bit but it doesn’t hurt too terribly bad.” Io was now grabbing Alfred by the chin to thoroughly inspect his nose, much to the humor of the others and horror of the subject in question. There was a suppressed snicker from Matthew. Lovino merely rolled his eyes. With a silent affirmation that Alfred was indeed fine, Io released the boy’s chin. Feliciano conveniently returned at this time and went sweeping past his mother with a rushed goodbye. He was out the door before Alfred could question where he was going and Lovino left right after him, Adenah waving him off.  
Matthew merely slipped out after them as Sadık and Herakles went back at it again over something or other. Ottium took to padding after him while Alfred cast one last confused look to Io and proceeded to follow his friends out of the house. He caught up with them easily, as they had already started down the walk, and slipped in between the twins with a bit of push.  
“Say, where are you two going?”  
“Work.”  
“Practice!” The answers came at the same time. Momentarily, Alfred found himself pausing to have to separate the two voices. He was severely out of practice. Frowning slightly, he stared at Lovino.  
“You work? Since when?”  
“Since a while now? Where have you been. Oh, right, not here.” The bitter apathy of the closing sentence struck Alfred sharply, making his frown turn harsher. Feliciano gave an awkward laugh and nudged Alfred with a prodding elbow.  
“He works at the bakery near the tinker shop! You know, the one Adenah’s family owns? Her father gave him a job there in exchange for the lack of dowry.”  
“Dowry?” Alfred’s brow drew together as he squinted at Feliciano. Matthew was just as clueless on the topic as his friend was and merely listened. Feliciano had never mentioned the reason behind the seemingly coincidental set up. He had just assumed it was Lovino’s need for a job and the families coming closer together.  
“Ha, we didn’t expect you to know what a dowry was.” Lovino huffed this out seeming slightly smug at having a knowledge Alfred didn’t. Alfred didn’t seem too pleased with this and let a sneer stretch on his face, a subtle warning that Lovino shouldn’t get too cocky.  
“It’s sort of old fashioned-- but Adenah’s parents are pretty old fashioned! It’s kind of like… Paying the groom of a bride for the marriage, I suppose.”  
“That sounds pretty stupid.”  
“Well, it’s normally more practical things.” Lovino cut in.  
“Like land, or livestock!” Added Feliciano. Alfred didn’t seem too thrilled about this whole concept, but the twins had said it was old fashioned. Matthew in the meantime kept his thoughts between himself and Ottium. Lysimanche swooped down and alighted on Alfred’s shoulder now, fluffing her feathers up.  
“So, they couldn’t give you anything worthwhile… They decided to just give you employment instead?” Letiza answered this in Lovino’s stead, her voice being echoed by Lia.  
“Basically.” Feliciano took an extra step ahead of the others and turned on his heels to face them, proceeding to walk backwards with a grin on his face.  
“I heard that Elizaveta’s dowry is very impressive! Silver diningware, ivory china, a handwoven rug all the way from Hungary, and a gold necklace with rubies!”  
“Too bad Elizaveta is so Hellbent on not getting married. That’s a handsome dowry for any suitor brave enough.” Lovino mused this, looking thoughtfully skyward. Alfred blanked for a moment before remembering the strange woman whom he had met that once upon a day.  
“That’s the lady who wears the breeches, right?”  
“Yeah, she’s fond of trousers.” Lovino offered this absently, casting Alfred a look. Feliciano cracked a devious smile and snorted back a laugh.  
“She’s not very fond of getting in them though, now is she?” Lovino automatically reacted first, having almost guessed what his twin was going to say before he said it. The two boys got in a short scuffle that Feliciano laughed through the entire time while Lia and Letiza went nipping at each others tails as they circled the boy’s feet. Matthew seemed to be tugged from his train of thought be the tussle and blinked blankly before comprehending what was happening. Alfred seemed lost on the meaning of Feliciano’s quip and looked to Matthew for an answer. He found none.  
“Anyways! I think we’re going to have to part soon… But I kind of don’t want to go to practice yet! Lovino, if I buy Mama a loaf of bread from the bakery do you think she’ll stay mad?” Feliciano had finally escaped from Lovino’s grasp and was now standing on the other side of Matthew, away from him, in case he might lash out again. Lovino frowned momentarily and hummed.  
“How do you intend to buy it, huh? You didn’t bring any money.” Feliciano gave a sheepish smile and shouldered the case he was carrying. Shifting his grip on it he laughed softly.  
“Well, see, I was hoping you would give me the--”  
“No way! You’re the one trying to skip out, so don’t try to make me buy your apology bread for you! Besides it’d be cold and hard by the time you gave it to her.” Feliciano didn’t even flinch at Lovino’s yelling and just sighed before whining in protest.  
“Lovinooo-- Please? What if I promise to pay you back? I’ll do your chores for you!” Lovino was hearing none of it and simply huffed.  
“Whatever you do, well, it’s not my business! You skips lessons, you skip lessons. I’ll tell Mama that I tried to stop you and leave it at that.” Feliciano whined at this and stamped his foot, stopping and then catching back up. Alfred finally wised up about something and looked to the more reluctant of the two twins.  
“You take lessons? What do you study?” Lovino butted in here.  
“As if you couldn’t guess, Mister Know-It-All? Come on, what did you think was in that case?” Lysimanche screeched at Lovino, who recoiled in shock at the unpleasant noise, but held his ground.  
“I was talking to Feliciano, thanks.”  
“I study music! Like Lovino was saying-- this is my violin case.” Matthew piped up now, always intrigued by Feliciano having chosen such a deviant profession to study.  
“Has your teacher been well? The one you always talk about as if he were a madman?”  
“The Madman of Oxford is what he is!” Lovino shrilled into the conversation while Feliciano laughed lightly. Alfred gaped at this and struggled to figure out what they meant.  
“He’s fine, he’s fine. I mean, as fine as he can get! He’s been working on this score lately, so maybe not really that fine.” Lovino made a face at this and shook his head slightly. Matthew merely arched his eyebrows up and made eye contact with Alfred briefly. The other boy was clearly very confused about what they were talking about. Not that Matthew could supply many answers about the odd individual who was Feliciano’s instructor. Feliciano didn’t talk much about details when it came to his teacher and Matthew had never met the man first hand. He had learned more about him from murmured town gossip as he did errands for Io than he had from the man’s student.  
“Do you really study music?” Alfred inquired after a moment of silence. Feliciano peered at Alfred blankly before nodding slowly. He seemed confused.  
“Yeah. Why? Is that weird?”  
“A bit.” Alfred left it at that as Lovino took a sharp turn and went further into town. Feliciano followed closed behind, grabbing Matthew’s upper arm as he went and tugging him along. Ottium butted against Lia as they maneuvered around one another. The group went pacing along until a voice hollered at them and brought them to a stop. It was Lovino who turned first, searching quickly for the source of the greeting. It was found that the person calling to them was none other than Emilian Petulengro. Mouth broad in a grin and face as grimy as ever, the man waved to the twins and Matthew. He didn’t seem to even glance at Alfred.  
“Vargas-- Bonjur! And to you too Matthew!” Emilian’s voice was hoarse, raspy even. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed loudly before meandering his way out of the doorway of the shack he had exited from and over to the group. Constanta chirped from by his feet, her tiny teeth bared in a smile of sorts. Alfred regarded the man coolly, a bit taken aback by his shabby appearance. He had, after all, really been confined to the company of the well groomed lately. Seeing Emilian again was a bit of a shock.  
“Good morning, Emilian. What do you want? I’m on my way to work, you know.” Lovino spoke curtly but not coldly towards Emilian. They were acquaintances at best, despite Emilian often hanging around. Alas, Emilian was a man of social quotas and he had not filled his for the day nearly as much as he should have. At least in his mind.  
“I wanted to speak with you, you all, that’s it, really. Say! Lovino, you haven’t yet said no to that offer I gave you.” Feliciano perked up automatically, interested in digging into the small bits of life that his twin didn’t bare to him already. Matthew was less subdued in his curiosity over Emilian’s works, glancing up at the man with his brows lifted.  
“I-- You know you could get yourself in serious trouble trying to offer that stuff! Just because you’re making dirt for income doesn’t mean you can put your life at stake.” The words were harsh and while they raised more questions for Matthew, Feliciano’s expression darkened with understanding. Emilian brushed off the comment about his riches-- or lack thereof-- and simply reached inside his coat and pulled out what appeared to be a small bag, a sachet perhaps.  
“Ah, but I do not offer you this for money! It is a gift, simply as that.” A couple of passerby folk glanced in the group’s direction, drawn by Lovino’s rather loud reprimanding. The boy really did lack volume control at times. Emilian gave a suspicious look to them and quickly tucked the sachet back into his coat.  
“It’s a wedding favor, think of it like this. After all, are you not to wed soon?”  
“In the spring, maybe! Don’t try to rush me or anything, Petulengro.”  
“Oh, so you are officially engaged.” Alfred stared through narrowed eyes at the two conversing while Feliciano gave a subdued smile, obviously bothered by something as he stared warily at the people still watching them. Matthew had started to edge away, glancing around the open street casually as if he weren’t involved with the rest of the party at all. Lovino seemed frustrated. Finally, while Matthew was far enough away now that the dim hum of the crowd blocked out most notable conversation, Lovino departed from Emilian and dragged his twin away and off into the bakery several buildings away. Alfred, unsure of which way to go, ended up hesitantly edging away from Emilian’s gaze and over to Matthew.  
“Yeesh-- What a weird guy.” Glancing up at Alfred, Matthew merely pursed his lips. The look made Alfred question if he had said something wrong.  
“He’s nice. Although, Lovino is right, I think. Did you see the people staring at us? At him?” Alfred paused, trying to recount on if what Matthew said was true. He didn’t recall.  
“No?...”  
“Well they were. I don’t know why, but they were.” Alfred frowned and shook his head, unsure as to what Matthew was going on about. Finally the younger boy turned quickly and started off in the direction of the bakery.  
“Let’s go. They’re probably waiting up for us.”  
The inside of the bakery was warm, perfumed with the scent of baking dough, and a little cramped with the amount of trays crowded around the shop. There standing by the currently open oven was a fat short man with meaty arms and a red face. His daemon, a rather normal looking tabby cat, was sitting atop the counter running her paw over her muzzle. A spindly thin woman stood behind the counter, idly watching the cat, her own finch daemon several feet away on a designated perch. They responded to the boys entering the bakery in a lethargic manner, seeming uninterested. The man gestured in curt greeting to Lovino and the woman offered a smile to the other boys. Other than that, they didn’t so much as say anything.  
Lovino caught Alfred’s gaze and arched an eyebrow at the other boy, questioning the strange nature of the stare. Alfred shook his head and looked away and Lovino promptly adjusted his apron and paced away. He was at work now, leaving his twin and two friends to themselves. Feliciano automatically began chatting up Adenah’s mother, the woman behind the counter. Her name was Quinn, short and simple. Feliciano remarked kindly about how that was a lovely name, inquiring if Alfred and Matthew thought so too, and the woman laughed before waving him off. Lia padded around the counter and sniffed at Quinn’s dress skirt curiously, ending up with the woman’s daemon landing on her head. Éanna was his name, as he introduced himself politely to the others. It means bird-like, he stated proudly. Lia rudely commented that it was extremely fitting, eyeing Quinn as she said this. The woman, nor her daemon, caught the remark.  
Mister Ackerman’s daemon spoke now, feeling the need to introduce herself now that Éanna had. Her name was Gracja she said,voice low and gruff compared to the usual feline. Momentarily her counterpart became distracted, seeming to get lost mid-thought and action. He quickly returned to what he was doing and Lovino shot a look to the others from the back of the shop as he vigorously kneaded dough.  
While Feliciano ignored Lovino’s stares and kept pleasant ,driving conversation with Quinn Alfred had noticed Matthew to be missing. Turning about trying to figure where he had gone off to, Alfred caught eye of Ottium just leaving the bakery. Eyes narrowing to sharp blue slits, Alfred trailed after the daemon. Lysimanche was quick to follow. She was already curious as to what the two others were up to. It didn’t take much math to put two and two together when Alfred poked his head out the door and spotted Matthew slipping into the Petulengro shop.  
Ignoring the little chime that sounded as he roughly pushed the door open and closed it behind him, Alfred followed Matthew onward. If the bakery had seemed cramped, the small business Emilian shared his name with was practically a cupboard. Vaguely it reminded him of the room that Matthew had used to sleep in. Much too small for the intent it was being used for and generally barren. There were small parts like cogs and coils strewn everywhere it seemed, and sitting amongst all these mechanical and wooden doodads was Emilian, Matthew, and another man who Emilian bore a strong resemblance to. Had to be his father, Alfred concluded. Alfred stared for several moments, not quite listening to what was being said. Emilian was talking casually to Matthew, sitting on a wooden box and toying with a pocketwatch. He smiled every other few beats and laughed at something Matthew said. His father was completely absorbed in what he was doing, which appeared to be rebinding a book. Odd.  
“Alfred.” Matthew had turned at some point Alfred guessed. He was staring right at him, so how he had missed it was beyond him, but his attention had been caught. Taking in the expression on Matthew’s face, Alfred finally responded.  
“Yeah?”  
“... Nothing.” Frowning at this Alfred went pacing over to stand near Matthew, the younger boy having turned his back on him. Emilian looked Alfred over. His hands were still working nimbly at the pocket watch despite Emilian appearing to not be paying attention, and Alfred stared at the progress curiously.  
“As I was saying. It’s not what you were thinking, kid. It’s a charm. A sachet for, you know. Good luck.” Matthew seemed confused, brow drawn as he intently made eye contact with Emilian. It seemed he was trying to figure something out. Suddenly, he spoke.  
“So it is magic.” Emilian regarded this question calmly, fingers not skipping a beat on the reconstruction of the watch. Alfred saw Emilian’s father stir at the word magic, eyes wide behind the magnified lenses of his glasses. Constanta chirped noisily at Emilian about something suddenly but he didn’t so much as acknowledge her.  
“Folk magic, maybe.” He finally admitted. His father frowned and murmured something to his son in a tongue only the two of them understood. The words were soft but held a sharp tone to them underneath it all. Urgency. Emilian nodded slowly and looked down at last.  
“What time’sit? You think?” His father answered again, louder this time, as he warily regarded Matthew and then Alfred. Alfred tried to not look at him. If he had ever thought Emilian in poor shape his father was for worser wear. What made Alfred most uncomfortable is that he simply couldn’t figure out where the man’s daemon was. He was half tempted to leave Matthew there and go back to the bakery to catch Feliciano.  
“Isn’t that illegal. You know. Magic, that is.” Matthew was clear with his words, talking slowly and deliberately. He sounded slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of this all.  
“Suppose so, kid. A lot of things are, yeah? Like drinking, murder. Public indecency.” Emilian mused this humorously, as if the whole thing was just some funny joke. His father had gone back to working but was obviously keeping an ear on the conversation. Alfred tuned back in himself, confused as to what this had to do with anything. All those things were illegal for a reason, he had assured himself. They were wrong. Granted of course nobody had stopped doing any of those things-- especially drinking-- but the possibility of being punished had stopped many before. But magic? Really?  
“Why is magic illegal then?”  
“I guess ‘cause it gets in the way of things. Something about the bible, God, and science. See the church is a bit strange about these things. You’re good though, kid. I can tell, you don't tell.” Emilian was steadily fixing the time on the watch, turning its knob and keeping attentive to the hands of the clock face. Matthew stared blankly, yet again, not sure what to make of what Emilian had said. The church, or maybe it was more The Church, seemed to be such a prominent figure in the town. The Church, as there was a subtle difference between The Church and the church, was more a distant shadow in the college. Or was it The College? No, for the college was a different kind of entity than The Church. At least in Matthew’s eyes.  
“What exactly is magic, Emilian.” At this, Emilian’s father stamped his foot and from what Matthew could tell started rapidly scolding his son. Emilian frowned, speaking back in tongue to his father. The conversation elevated to shouting for a moment before Emilian resigned abruptly and turned back to Matthew, glancing Alfred’s way.  
“You need to leave now. It was lovely chatting but loitering, much like magic, is against the law. Bye, bye.” Emilian waved Matthew away casually, snapping the pocket watched closed. Constanta hissed aggressively, baring her fangs the children’s way. Ottium reared back and away from her, quickly making his way to the exit. Alfred was already leaving as well, Lysimanche ahead of him. Something, an animal of some sort, fell from the ceiling with a shrill chirping noise and flew at Matthew. The shock of it all caused the boy to reel backwards, realizing a moment too late that the animal assaulting him was none other than the bat shaped daemon of Emilian’s father.  
After fleeing, and having accidentally swatted and thus bewildered the bat daemon that had descended upon him so suddenly, Matthew found himself being snagged and pulled aside by Alfred.  
“Don’t go running out in front of things-- you’ll get yourself hurt doing that!” The dip in the pitch of Alfred’s voice caused Matthew to jump slightly and stare at him blankly. After clearing his throat, Alfred’s voice returned mostly to normal.  
“You look like you’ve seen Death, Matthew. What’s the matter?”  
“I… I think I just… It was on accident you see but-- I think I just touched…” It was Alfred’s turn to stare vacantly. Matthew whined in frustration, looking about frightfully as if the Hand of God was waiting in the form of some passerby. Just waiting to bring down fire and brimstone upon him.  
“His daemon-- she just, flew at me…” And thus it clicked. Alfred’s jaw dropped and his blue eyes bugged out slightly. Lysimanche, who had come to rest on the back of the boy’s shoulder, hissed out in a frighteningly gleeful tone.  
“Dirty daemon toucher!” Ottium growled and let his hackles rise as Matthew’s face contorted in mortification.  
“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t even realize what she was at first!” Alfred shook his head, mouth clamped shut, as he stared down at Matthew. Lysimanche was laughing, despite Alfred himself not seeming to find the situation none too funny.  
“Just-- Just forget it happened. Alright? Come on, Feliciano is leaving soon.” Matthew’s mouth felt dry. Alfred turned away now, and left the younger boy staring desperately at his back. Lsyimanche had cocked her feathery head this way and that to stare back at him, feathers raised and beak wide. She looked like a grinning ball of fluff with eyes, but the humor of it was lost to Matthew. Rather he clutched his hand to his chest and looked about. Checking to see if anyone had paid attention to what had transpired. Only one person, he found, out of all had been paying attention. She stood on the other side of the street, all pristine white clothes and elegance most often found in the aristocrats. She was smiling at him, which somehow did nothing to ease Matthew’s quickly worsening ill feeling.  
The woman raised a single slender finger to her ruby painted lips, pearly white teeth exposed behind them, and winked. On her other hand was a grubby looking child, and at her side a large canine looking daemon with a sparkling gold coat to match her hair. Matthew quickly looked away when she appeared to laugh, and rushed after his friend. It was better he catch up with Alfred.  
“Matthew, there you are! Come on, Lovino got mad and told me to go away-- so I’m going to go to my lessons now. I wanted to introduce you both to my tutor, since fratellone gave you a bad idea of him.” Feliciano was chipper as always, not even bothering to realize that Matthew and Alfred both were acting rigidly bizarre at the moment. He merely shouldered his case again and started to walk onward.  
“Hey, where’d you two go anyways?” Feliciano finally asked this after the group had walked further in town. Alfred glanced at Matthew who refused to meet the other boys gaze.  
“Just stepped out is all.” Alfred answered, smiling. Feliciano shrugged to himself and started to gradually turn, making his way to a low ceilinged building with shuttered windows that were framed with flowers in planters. Casual fowl fluttered about the windows twittering happily and several hummingbirds even zipped through the late blossoms that clung to their green stems. Or they did until a sudden commotion erupted from within the pristine little cottage-esque function.  
All at once the place seemed to go topsy turvy as a wooden something was launched out the open window and into the streets, nearly hitting a woman who was prancing by with her little poodle daemon dressed up at her side. She screeched shrilly, desperately trying to gather her copious amounts of dress skirts up so to get away from the mess quickly. Feliciano merely sighed and laughed awkwardly, turning to Alfred and Matthew.  
“Ah… So, maybe Lovino was a bit right about him… But Mister Edelstein is a good man! I promise!” There was more yelling and general tearing down of things as several papers found their way into the streets with what now appeared to be an unfinished cello, disregarded in the midst of its makings.  
“R… Right. Are you sure it’s safe in there?”  
“Of course it is! Come on, come meet him. He’s a genius, you know.” Feliciano said this with much pride and a smile on his face. The eldest of the trio was quick to turn back around and go running up to the short staircase leading to the front door, apologizing to a couple elders who were having to divert their oh so important paths around the broken instrument in their way. Matthew and Alfred followed after him hesitantly. Sure the last amount of people Feliciano had managed to introduce him to had been mostly pleasant but this man, this Madman Edelstein of Oxford-- well, he hadn’t made a very good first impression.  
There wasn’t even a knock on the door before it was yanked open to reveal what would have been a regal man had his glasses not been askew, his hair not been mussed, and his face not been a blotchy pink. He seemed to calm down minutely upon seeing Feliciano, but not enough to hide the fact he may or may not have been throwing a temper tantrum. From behind him, his daemon peeked out. A rather pretty maroon coated doe of some kind.  
“Feliciano. You’re early.”  
“Actually, sir, I’m late. May we come in?”  
“We…” Brown eyes with a strange undertone flickered to Alfred and Matthew and then narrowed. His daemon said something unintelligible and he huffed before looking back to Feliciano.  
“They will not touch anything, they will not go near anything, they will not wander, and most importantly, they will not ask. Any. Questions.” Feliciano nodded, as if this was perfectly normal for someone to request of a bunch of children.  
“They won’t! Thank you, sir.” Feliciano entered now as his teacher moved away from the doorway and smoothed down the front of his clothes. He was dressed simply, really, in what looked to be cotton linen. The cuffs of his shirt were belled slightly and the collar dipped in a V on his chest. He had what was likely meant to be a cravat tied in an abnormal fashion around his neck. A more modern counterpart might have stopped and compared it to an ascot, but none such counterparts existed yet and neither did the ascot. His pants were black and high waisted, form fitting and tucked into a pair of modestly heeled boots. Overall he dressed as if he might be noble had he actually put on all his clothes that morning. Briefly, Alfred wondered how he could stand the cold air entering his home… store… thing.  
“What was it you were learning again? Was it Liberda?”  
“No, sir, Mahler.”  
“Pah! Mahler… Eumelia, when did we start Mahler? He’s a hack!”  
“A week ago, Roderich. You like Mahler.” Eumelia replied softly.  
“Do I? Feliciano, pull out the Liberda piece. Bruno Liberda. You have it transcribed?” Roderich, which was apparently this man’s name, was pacing around willy nilly. Alfred and Matthew stood awkwardly just inside the building with their backs against the closed door, staring. Feliciano merely yanked out a stack of paper from inside his case and started to sift through it.  
“I think so--”  
“You think?”  
“I believe so.” Feliciano corrected. “Ah! Here it is.”  
“Good. Get playing. I want to hear it all the way through, no stops, no pause. If you make a mistake start over from the beginning.” Roderich swept away from Feliciano, making his way to an ebony piano and leaning over it awkwardly, to the two college boys at least, and began to play something. In the midst of the frenzied but oddly beautiful playing Roderich slammed his hands into the keys and rushed to a desk, grabbing up a charcoal stick and scribbling something down on a leaflet of paper. Feliciano wasn’t bothered by this at all and rather continued to tune his violin. Eumelia, Roderich’s daemon, looked over Matthew and Alfred’s way.  
“You two must be new… I don’t remember seeing you around here before.” Her voice was nearly inaudible over the loud muttering of Roderich as he shuffled around in what had to be noisiest manner possible, and of course Feliciano’s humming and note checking. Ottium, having the sharper ears of the pair, heard her all the same and shook his head.  
“No, ma’am. We’re not quite new at all. Just new here.” Eumelia nodded slowly and went back to herding Roderich around, trying to keep him at least a bit collected. Finally the man took a seat heavily, and on the floor, across from the now playing Feliciano. He knit his hands together and rested his mouth along the bridge of his fingers, gaze trained intensely on his pupil. Matthew and Alfred watched the two, transfixed, and tried to comprehend it all. Feliciano was just as concentrated as his teacher-- eyes locked on his sheet music as he drew his bow across the strings of his instrument. Momentarily any noise from outside seemed to stop.  
It wasn’t particularly surprising to find that Feliciano was an excellent violinist. Something deep inside Alfred and Matthew had sort of expected it the second he had admitted to studying music. The boys didn’t know what the piece he was playing was in the slightest but as they watched Roderich’s eyes flutter shut and Lia swaying on the spot, tail flipping to and fro like a metronome, they could only guess he must have been playing it perfectly. A sharp upward trill of the violin caused Alfred to jolt slightly and as the shrill noise kept, Roderich took a sharp inhale.  
“You held it too long. Start again.” And it seemed as if with the soft exhale of reprimanding, the outside world was suddenly there again. This time when Feliciano played, there was no magic moment of silence but rather the usual sounds of the people outside milling about in the chilly weather. Briefly Matthew felt as if he wasn’t quite sitting in his own skin, and then it all seemed to snap back. So this was real music, wasn’t it? Up at the college scholars weren’t prone to listening to music seeing as they’d have to hire musicians to come play; the hand servants of the lesser building tended to just sing off key and stomp out beats to go along. It was startlingly entrancing to hear a real instrument being played.  
In the meantime, Roderich had wandered again, still listening to Feliciano but now occupied with something again. The lesson continued onwards with Feliciano having to redo his performance from the trill several times before continuing onwards and finally getting all the way through it. The final note was low and long, the young musician pulling the bow across the strings slowly and firmly. It was like water pushing and pulling over a riverbed or even lapping up at the sides of a canal. Yet somewhere in there was an odd primal force, like the roaring wind or the split second electrifying suspense that the world is held in before lightning splits the sky. It was dangerously beautiful. Feliciano seemed thoroughly pleased with himself at having finally completed the piece and looked to Roderich hopefully.  
For a couple heartbreaking moments the man did not acknowledge Feliciano and instead continued to fiddle with a contraption of some sorts. Shortly, he turned to face his student and company; on his face was a grimly proud expression.  
“You did excellent.” Immediate relief. A great tension seemed lifted from Feliciano as he bowed his head in thanks. Roderich finally turned to eye Alfred and Matthew, seeming to be staring directly into them as he did so. Matthew shuffled slightly and Alfred puffed his chest out. A testament to their personalities if anything.  
“... You there, with the hair.” The statement made no sense in hindsight; somehow the two boys figured, and figured correctly, that Roderich was speaking to Matthew.  
“Yes, sir?”  
“You have pianist's fingers, even if you are young. Do you play?”  
“N… No?... There is not any… much, music where I am from.” Roderich seemed appalled at this and paced forward. While Alfred had some ground to stand on, the man practically towered over Matthew. Or it seemed like like it. Although the boy swallowed and opened his mouth to say something it appeared as if he had lost his voice. He shut his mouth given there was nothing to say.  
“No music? Are you from the orphanage?”  
“The college, sir.”  
“That makes the both of us.” Alfred butted in.  
“The college?” Roderich seemed surprised at this answer, brow lifting. Feliciano was nothing short of thrilled presently. He had caught on quickly that Roderich was interested in teaching Matthew. How spectacular it was, to him, to be chosen personally by a man of such musical caliber. Matthew wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.  
“The college doesn’t teach music… I see. They are no better than the church then. Hidden agendas, the both of them! Suppressing the people from knowledge, keeping them from truths.” Feliciano was jittering in place now, brown eyes blown wide and smile stretching across his mug. Alfred had started to grimace in insult, not appreciating the slander Roderich was throwing homeward bound.  
“What is your name, child?” Eumelia trotted around Roderich as he started to pace in place rapidly.  
“Me?”  
“No, the one who looks like he will vomit-- Yes, you.” Alfred recoiled in surprise at this and his insulted grimacing only became more severe. He was practically sneering now.  
“Matthew.”  
“... Just Matthew?” Roderich’s tone wasn’t prying. Simply curious. When Matthew nodded silently the man looked his way thoughtfully and accepted this.  
“I wish to teach you, Matthew. If there is one thing I will not, cannot, shall not--” His tone rose with each not until Eumelia gave a noise of warning and he cleared his throat. “stand for… It is wasted potential. I can see it in you-- a spark!” There was also a spark in Roderich, visible through his eyes as if a fire or a star shard had been planted within him. His passion was boiling just beneath his skin. Feliciano was grinning at Matthew now, nodding excitedly. Matthew only smiled hesitantly back.  
“You are expected back here tomorrow, sharp of sunrise.”  
“Sunrise, sir?”  
“Yes, sunrise! Don’t fear, your deafness won’t interfere with your studies. There were many great musicians who went deaf, did you know? Now, I want you out of here. Go, shoo. I cannot attend to two pupils at once.” Matthew was half devastated, half mystified, and completely blown away. What had just transpired? Alfred grabbed his friend by the arm and tugged him out quickly and back into the streets, seeming to ignore the cheerful goodbye Feliciano hurled at their backs.  
“Who does that man believe he is?”  
“Did I just acquire a mentor?”  
“He’s a real piece of work!”  
“Alfred, I don’t know anything about music.”  
“What?” Alfred finally looked down at Matthew to find the boy white as a ghost. They blinked at one another for several moments as their daemons remained silent at their respective sides. Slowly, Alfred slackened his hold on Matthew. He frowned and sniffed slightly, folding his arms over his chest and rubbing his forearms.  
“You’re not really going to do it are you?” The question stirred confusion within Matthew and in the flurry of thoughts Ottium was repeating a mantra over and over.  
“I don’t know.” He finally admitted. He hadn’t actually stopped to think he had a choice in the matter. Roderich had said it all so suddenly and with such conviction-- Matthew had accepted it all. Just like that. Alfred did a very Bonnefoy thing at this point and pursed his lips at the younger boy. Matthew’s gaze dropped to his feet at this time; Ottium grumbled something that was incoherent to even Matthew.  
“Well,” Alfred started. “Now what? Both Lovino and Feliciano are doing something.”  
“Normally I do errands for Missus Io.” Matthew replied quietly. Lysimanche was staring him down in a manner he wasn’t sure how to deal with. Like she was still holding what had happened over him.  
“Is that what you always do down here? On your own?”  
“No, no-- Adenah helps sometimes. Occasionally, she brings Julchen too. You remember her?”  
“She’s the odd one with the ram, right?” A nod answered. Alfred nodded in turn, recalling his meeting with the woman. She was particularly unforgettable wasn’t she?  
“We could always just look around, if you want to.” Matthew suggested this tentatively, toying with the cuffs of the jacket he was wearing. Ottium had crept over and wrapped himself around Matthew’s leg slowly progressing upward in an effort to get Matthew to pick him up properly.  
“Isn’t that dangerous, you think?” The prospect of wandering around an area he frankly had no clue about made Alfred falter slightly. Not to say he wasn’t curious. Oh no, he was very curious.  
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Alfred seemed surprised at Matthew’s words and blinked down at the boy. He nodded slowly at first, then more surely. With the stroking of his ego giving him a boost of confidence, Alfred offered a hand to Matthew.  
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go then. Where did you want to go?” Matthew seemed to hesitate slightly taking Alfred’s hand but did so in the end, looking around to decide which direction to go.  
“Farther in town, maybe?” Oxford was a fairly big place, and truth be told-- Matthew and Alfred had only seen bits and pieces of it. This was perhaps the furthest they had been in. The sight of richer more aristocratic folk was the dead give away. If Alfred and Matthew made their friends look grubby, these people made them look grubby. My how the tables had turned. Taking the first step forward, Alfred led Matthew along into the street to walk. Not that there were any real clear distinctions between the walkways and the streets. No, no-- that was more of a modern automobile dominated era thing really.  
The boys walked in silence for a while, just taking in the town around them as they curiously eyed the powder faced and linen clothed others milling around them. Several times, Lysimanche quietly and snidely remarked about the fact some of the daemons were wearing clothes. How odd, she considered it, that they would wear articles meant for their humans. The most amusing the kids found was the instance of a flamboyantly dressed man who had a show pony of a daemon who was clad in a flouncing dress. She had many ribbons woven in her mane and tail, and upon the white fur of cheeks was unmistakably blush. Ottium had to bite his tongue to not laugh at the proud little prancing pony as she followed her companion down the street.  
This bizarre trend, one of which neither of the boys had witnessed before, was also intriguing. The thought had never occurred to them to put clothes on daemons, and in a way it was almost charming. The daemons seemed to be so proud of their little custom made garments. Although not all of them donned them, it was clear to see that the more wealthy the person the more likely their daemon was to be wearing these little outfits.  
Eventually, the boys’ journey inward led them to stop. Not due to tiredness, nor because they had found themselves lost. Oh, no, but due to the fact they had come upon-- there in the middle of the town-- the largest establishment either of them had seen besides the college itself.  
The Church.  
It was safe to say that church was perhaps not the best word to describe the thing before them. It was a cathedral. Soaring spires grazed the sky and were pointing the way to the heavens, stained glass stared out the stone faces of the church with an ethereal light shining from within, and the Romanesque Gothic architecture was an intimidating look to tack to an already intimidating force. It would take a fool not to know that this, this behemoth of a building, was The Church. It stirred a deep sense of awe struck terror within Alfred and Matthew they couldn’t quite understand and would never be able to explain.  
Yet, people milled around this building-- one likely as old or older than the college and the city itself-- as if it were just apart of their daily lives to walk in the shadow cast by this giant. It was mind boggling to consider. Suddenly the world seemed very, very big.  
“... Wow.” It was Alfred who broke the silence, voice coming out in a hushed whisper. Matthew jumped slightly and looked his way, eyes wide in an owlish fashion and mouth still hanging ajar.  
“Is this?... Really?”  
“Yeah, I think so.” Matthew slowly turned back to stare at The Church, neck craned so as to peer up at the highest towers. Momentarily, Matthew recalled the stories of the bible he knew. The story of Sodom, of Moses and of Abraham, of Jesus, and most importantly the story of Adam and Eve. Once more he glanced at Alfred. He seemed puzzled by something, as if he were trying to make sense of a thought he couldn’t quite grasp onto. Lysimanche took to wing now, and Alfred watched her go with his head cocked curiously. Up, up, up, and higher still she went until Alfred took a sharp inhale and lurched. Then she took a harsh out of control spiral downwards before stabilizing and returning to his side. Matthew had to admit she had gone quite a ways before the strain was too much.  
“I want to go inside.” The declaration was sudden. Alfred had a habit of making split second decisions after all. Matthew wasn’t surprised.  
“I don’t… It feels weird.” The confession felt heavy on Matthew’s heart. The Church made him feel queasy, sick to his stomach, and dry mouthed. It was beautiful, yes, but frightening. Like walking down into the crypts had been frightening.  
“Weird how?” Ottium was a ball of raised fur in Matthew’s arm, betraying his attempts to not look childishly scared-- fearful for no reason.  
“Just weird.” He lied. Matthew had never known the fear of God in his life before. Not until that moment had he ever felt the bone deep feeling of worrying for your immortal soul. At his young age he could not decipher what he was feeling, but he certainly knew it made him feel… Bad.  
“Do you think we should go?...”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Alright. I think we should go too then.” With a quick nod of his head Matthew took a hold of Alfred’s hand and went to start turning away. For the second time that day he caught sight of the woman in white. She was standing up on the steps of the church in the shade. She was still with the child from earlier but with an added little girl who was clinging her daemon to her chest as she looked down at the people milling below her. Momentarily Matthew caught her gaze and she smiled at him, baring her few teeth at him.  
Then they were turning away and walking off.  
Briefly Matthew felt Ottium saying something aloud. Something about going back to Io’s. Away from The Church, he thought to himself. Alfred agreed with Ottium, surprising Matthew slightly as he had assumed his daemon was speaking to him alone. The two walked in silence. Matthew occasionally became aware of how tightly he was gripping Alfred’s hand, especially when the boy would shift his grip so as to give his finger a chance to have blood circulate into them again. He felt embarrassed at this, really.  
The arrival to more familiar territory was appreciated, even if it had been a longer time going than coming. Matthew was in the house first, with Alfred behind him a step. Sitting at the kitchen table was Io, stopped over paper with a quill and an ink well. Adenah was sitting in the area parallel with Micha, quietly listening to him read basic sentences to her. Quite suddenly it dawned on Alfred that Adenah could not read. Selvaggia chirped words from Micha’s book happily with Abrax happily mimicking her.  
“Matthew? Alfred-- You’re back.” Io was quick to set her writing utensil down, surprised to see the boys back in her home for once. They offered a nod to her, unclasping their hands despite the slight reluctance of both parties in question.  
“We’re going back to the college.” Alfred spoke first. He paused then and considered something briefly. “We’re going home.”  
“Already… I see. Well, Matthew, I hope to see you soon. It was pleasant seeing you again, Alfred. It’s been different around here without my sixth son.” Io gave a well meaning smile at her little joke while Alfred ogled at her blankly. Sixth son? Huh.  
“I’ll… I’ll try to be around more.”  
“Bye Missus Io.”  
“Goodbye boys.” Quickly Alfred and Matthew left; the boys did not bother to say goodbye to Adenah and Michelangelo. They were occupied as is, and they would have hated to disturb the two of them. So they hastily went back the way they had came, slipping back through the bars with more difficulty than they would have liked, and making for the main college building. It was only once they were safe inside those doors again that they relaxed. The Church was far, far away now. They were back home, in the college, where they were surrounded by scholars of the sciences and not brothers of the faith. It was, for once, very comforting.  
With Alfred in the lead, they scaled the staircase to go back to their shared room. One of the first times in a while they had done so. Ottium had finally calmed down enough that his tail did not lash about like a furry whip, and Lysimanche was currently content to take the form of a mink around Alfred’s throat. It was when they stepped through the doorway of their room that they came upon something odd. The feeling that things were not in the place that they were supposed to be, but their minds struggled to concoct what exactly was wrong with the scene before them. It clicked when Matthew looked down and saw the scuff marks on the floor. The entire room had been mirror imaged from its previous arrangement. Alfred appeared to notice at the same time. He grew to look ill, but said nothing.  
“Do you think, perhaps, we can see it from our window?” He mused, trying to ignore the truth of the new configuration of their furniture.  
“The Church.” The capital C to the h felt hard in Matthew’s mouth.  
“Mmm.” Was Alfred’s only answer as he pulled the curtain back. There on the skyline were the tops of the spires that gave the church its distinct shape. It was as if the church had sprouted up there over night. The curtains were tugged closed slightly, enough to hide the view outside but still let light into the room. Taking a seat on the window box, Alfred crossed one leg over the other and sighed. Today had been an oddly eventful day and it was hardly even noon yet.  
Matthew shuffled over and slipped into the small space that Alfred had left on the box, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging them tightly. He eyed Alfred momentarily, simply staring at him, and then looked down at his own hands. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it still felt vaguely heavy. Lysimanche had settled on Alfred’s shoulder again, feather flat and shiny. Matthew had thought that Alfred looked rather mature like this. He was going to be seen as an adult soon and it suddenly dawned on him that sooner or later Lysimanche would settle and Matthew would be a child and Alfred a grown man. The notion made Matthew’s breath catch in his throat.  
“Alfred?” The boy’s voice came out tight and strained. Alfred’s head turned sharply as he looked at Matthew, eyebrows arched up.  
“Mmhm?”  
“...” Matthew swallowed, trying to contain the strange anxiety and fear that had been consuming him ever since they had seen the church. It seemed to be infecting all his thoughts now. It felt like he was being gnawed at from the inside.  
“Matthew?”  
“We’re best friends, right?...” Alfred’s brow drew together as he stared intently at Matthew, possibly trying to decipher what had prompted this question. Slowly he nodded, face gravely sincere.  
“Yeah. You’re my best friend. I’m your best friend too, right?” Matthew felt the anxiety edge away only a little as he nodded solemnly and rested his chin on his knees.  
“Yeah. Yeah, you are. And when we’re all grown up we’re still going to be best friends... When you’re grown up?”  
“Yeah, of course! That’s what best friends do.” Alfred seemed sure of this and uncrossed his legs. Pulling them underneath him on the windowbox, he leaned forward and supported his weight on his palms.  
“Is there something wrong, Matthew?” There was a pause as Matthew simply stared at Alfred, trying to figure out how to voice what he was feeling. It sounded stupid, he thought to himself. Ottium was silent on the matter. At least it felt like he was. A slight shiver was suppressed as Matthew looked down and then up.  
“Yeah. I was just thinking.” Slowly, Alfred moved his jaw in thought. Grinding his teeth. A habit that was going to be hard to break, apparently. Unbeknownst to Matthew, Sampson had chided Alfred on it repeatedly. You’ll ruin your teeth that way, Fred, he had said.  
“You’re my best friend, Matthew.” Alfred reiterated. “Okay?”  
“Okay...” Alfred hovered there a moment longer before scooting closer and promptly draping himself onto Matthew in what was probably meant to be a hug. Alfred was heavy, having pressed most his weight onto Matthew, but the younger boy didn’t bother to complain and merely tugged his arms free from where they were and wrapped them around Alfred in return.  
“Thanks for not laughing at me.”  
“Why would I laugh at you? You didn’t say anything funny.” Alfred was, if anything, truthful with his emotions. Most children were, if one cared to notice. People are always conditioned to be deceptive when it comes to what they feel. Alfred was fairly free of said conditioning.  
“I guess… Yeah, you’re right. Say, do you think we could go sit in the gardens a while? I think the last of the flowers are going to wilt soon.” Alfred pulled away and pat Matthew’s shoulders, peering out the window again. Going to the garden sounded alright, but he was starting to get a bit peckish.  
“If we head in that direction, we should stop by the other building. You think they have food left over?” Matthew paused to think about the question then nodded. They always had food, although not necessarily leftovers; there was always food. He supposed it would be nice to visit as well. Seeing everyone again. Riley and Julia and Tucker-- Mikyla too.  
“We should… Maybe one of them will walk with us to the gardens too.” Alfred seemed content with this before stopping dead, remembering something.  
“I need to go tell Sampson what we’re up to-- I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” Alfred was already up and halfway out the door before Matthew could respond to him. Ottium huffed at the rapid pace Alfred had left in and flicked his tail.  
“You’d think his pants were about to burst into flames.”  
“...” Matthew stared after Alfred but said nothing. There was a sudden chill to the room without him there, but it still felt like there was something. Matthew once more looked around the room at the flipped placement of the furniture and involuntarily laughed shrilly. It wasn’t funny to him at all. It was actually very frightening. Maybe that was the real reason he wanted to go. Even the books under his bed had been moved with the bed itself, given they weren’t just laying there in the middle of the floor where the bed had once been. It was awful really. Dreadful.  
“...” Now Ottium had gone silent. Matthew felt like fleeing the room but feared slightly that something might pop out and try to get him should he move a single muscle. Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Finally just when it felt like he might burst with apprehension, Alfred skid into the room again.  
“Come on, then-- Get a move on!” Matthew was up and away automatically, darting past Alfred.  
“I’ll race you!” Automatically the challenge made Alfred’s face brighten. Lysimanche dropped to four on the floor and went dashing ahead as Alfred close the door to the room behind him upon exit.  
“You’re going to lose! Just thought you’d like to know!” Which even with the head start, Matthew did know he would lose. It still felt nice though. It was the stairs that gave Alfred his jump ahead. While Matthew had rapidly been jogging down the steps, Alfred went sliding down the banister with a grin on his face. He lept off, landed on his feet, jogged in place for a moment, and then went speeding off while Matthew still had a third a way to go. They regrouped back at the front doors and then went at it again, slightly breathless and panting.  
They stopped running half way there, although Alfred kept a brisk half step ahead of Matthew. Likely to prove his point. When they entered the building the familiar bell rang clear and several people had already stuck their heads about before the boys could even shut the door behind them. One of these people happened to be Julia, and another Aada. Aada didn’t particularly greet the boys given before she could open her mouth she was being tugged back into the room from whence she came-- Julia on the other hand was happy to flounce over.  
“Matthew!” She held the vowels of Matthew’s name out joyously, half lidded eyes sparkling happily. She was genuinely happy to see the boy, looking to Alfred next. She raised her hand now, waving languidly.  
“Alfred!” Alfred smiled slightly, confusion evident, as he tried to remember who the girl before him was. Matthew provided the answer for him.  
“Julia-- You’re awake.” Cimon poked his head out of Julia’s pocket now, nose wiggling as he peered at the boys and their daemons.  
“Mmmhm, yep! Come on, come with me.” Julia was turning on her heels now, lopsidedly turning and nearly toppling over as she did so. Alfred and Matthew both moved to assist her only to have the girl right herself on her own and carry on her merry way.  
“Julia, what is it?” Hair bouncing with each borderline lethargic skip, the girl kept moving onward and merely shook her head with a laugh. Matthew looked to Alfred with a shrug and went after her. It wasn’t really often Julia was so energized. Something big must have been up. That much could be concluded. Alfred trailed behind Matthew now, Lysimanche loping a pace ahead of him while Ottium perched atop her head.  
“I’ll let her tell you when we get to her, mmmokay?”  
“Her? Who?”  
“Anne-Marie, of course, silly goose. Don’t ask so many things, would you? Here!” And with a haphazard swing Julia took a sharp turn, bumped into the doorframe with a soft ow, and entered another area. Matthew and Alfred followed her with a little more coordination, staring at her back with mild concern. There was another hallway here, which Julia had managed to somehow advance halfway down in the time it took the boys to get past the entrance. For someone so sluggish she moved at an alarming pace.  
“Hustle, you two, have you got lead in your shoes?” Alfred pressed his lips together in a line and took ahead of Matthew, quickly closing the space between himself and Julia. With a slight look of vague insult Matthew went after him.  
“Julia, why are you taking us to see Anne-Marie exactly?” The question came from Alfred, who was a bit perturbed about this whole thing. Julia didn’t answer at first but rather took another turn, again clipping the doorframe-- this time she backtracked before the boys could follow her and went the other direction, skimming along the wall before coming to a closed door.  
“Here we are. Annie! Annie-Marie! Coming in!”  
“Jules, wai--” But it was a tad bit too late. Julia yanked the door open. There was a flash of movement, a shrill yell, and out of sheer instinct both boys went to flinch away as Beauregard’s tail fanned out. Anne-Marie was not quite dressed yet, nor were the other maids lounging with her in the quarters. Galina, Belynda, and Carmen were there along with Alala and Pili. Quincy was there, and was also the only one fully dressed. While Matthew let his arms drop away from his face after the initial shock had passed, Alfred kept his hands over his eyes insistently. If there was something he had learned from Sampson it was that one never peers at a lady in undress. It was rude.  
“Julia! Blast it all, close the door would you?!” This came from Pili as she hurled a pillow Julia’s way and instead hit Matthew as the girl expertly managed to sway out of the way.  
“It’s closing, don’t worry! Look who I brought. Annie-Marie I thought you’d want to invite him to the party.” The word party was elongated as Anne-Marie clipped the last button of her corset and tugged a blanket around her shoulders like a shawl. She squinted at the boys critically, looking distinctly different without her makeup on. She tutted her tongue at some point and sniffed haughtily.  
“You can’t just drag men into our quarters like this, Jules. How scandalous. They’ll think we’re a bunch of harlots.” Quincy puckered her lips and frowned at Anne-Marie’s words, glancing at Alfred who was still averting his gaze. Matthew’s brow furrowed at the word harlot in particular. All he knew was that to be a harlot meant to be a bad thing, and it was always girls who were this bad thing.  
“Say, isn’t that young Mister Kirkland?” Galina suddenly interjected. From around her neck, Ehkivorous chattered noisily. She had tugged her own blanket up over her breasts, expression critical as she pulled her bare legs under the blanket as well. Belynda, who was probably the second most clothed, hummed back a response.  
“It is, I can tell you. Hasn’t he grown quite a bit?” Iakchos sat in her lap, his tail clamped gently in his own mouth. Carmen snickered at this, Pavlos sitting atop her shoulder with his wide grinning mouth. He bobbed his head to and fro in amusement. Beauregard put his tail down finally, still displeased at having had someone barge into the room. Julia finally spoke up, having gone into an odd trance like state.  
“Anne-Marie’s birthday is soon.” She announced, mainly to Matthew and Alfred.  
“Really? How old will you be turning?” Came Matthew’s inquiry.  
“Eighteen. I’m really getting to be quite old.” Belynda sniffed loudly at this and cleared her throat. She was twenty after all. The oldest one in the room. Quincy pat Webster on the back and crossed her legs, not really attempting to join in on the conversation.  
“Gettin’ old, as if. You’ll be roundin’ out forty and still be lookin’ like you’s fresh as fourteen.” Alala offered this, kicked back with her legs propped up. Pili snorted softly.  
“Depends. Porcelain cracks pretty easily.”  
“And Lord knows that ebony don’t.” Alala snipped back with a wink. Anne-Marie rolled her eyes but smiled in good humor. Matthew nor Alfred got the joke, staring blankly at the two black women. Eventually they would understand it, but not now.  
“We’re going to have a birthday party for her!”  
“Yeah, ‘cause she’s got enough of the silly in her to be celebratin’ it.”  
“The word you’re looking for is frivolity, Alala.” Anne-Marie quipped back. “And frankly, I don’t see why having the silly in me is any worse than you having the bitter.” Alala seemed a bit shocked at the clap back, although she took note of the new vocabulary word and vowed to remember it for later.  
“One year closer to our inevitable Deaths! I hope they treat us kindly.” Galina chimed in.  
“Here, here! I’d say it’s something to drink to. Do you think Deaths are handsome? I sure hope so. I’d hate to have some ghoul scoop me up and drag me on it’s back to Heaven.” This was Carmen speaking as she sighed and dreamily leaned back, swinging her arm off the cot she was laid out upon.  
“You nasty woman, you-- Everybody knows Deaths ain’t supposed to be pretty things. They’re monsters after all! Shadows of Humanity! Now quit speakin’ of them. You might just make yours think your time has come, and he’ll drag you kickin’ an’ screamin’ right here in fron’a us.” Alala launched a pillow at Carmen who squeaked indignantly and swatted it away. Julia skipped over and plopped down near Anne-Marie who had now taken a seat and was idly filing her nails.  
“Pardon, but… What exactly is a Death.” The room went quiet at Matthew’s question. He surely had a vague idea of what it was. People talked about them enough, despite Alala’s warning that too much talk would make the mysterious thing appear. As far as Matthew could gather they were living shadows, misty black shapes that gathered your soul up and took it somewhere. Pili glanced around the room, patting her daemon silently before speaking up in a hushed voice.  
“They’re a part of us, kindof. They’re like shadows to the Human soul. Everybody Human casts a shadow, and that shadow is our Death. They take souls to the Afterlife, once you die. They all know we’s talking about ‘em too.”  
“Pili, don’t scare him. Either of them.” Belynda snapped this, although the anxiety was clear on her face. She wasn’t quite comfortable with the topic.  
“They’re in here? Right now?” Alfred had spoken up now, peeking between his fingers childishly as he frowned.  
“Mmmh.” Alala nodded along to Pili’s answer.  
“Just watchin’. Waitin’.”  
“Pili!” Belynda scoffed at the whole thing even if it was obvious she was unhinged. Alfred looked to Matthew now and swallowed thickly. The younger boy had a front up, seeming to be impartial to the concept being presented to him.  
“Is that really true though? Do you have proof?” Alfred spoke up finally, trying to quench his fear with disbelief and denial. A natural reaction to things that seem impossible, even in a world of such magical proportions as this. Pili paused now, brow furrowing as she kept a hard stare on Alfred.  
“Why don’t you ask them yourself, boy? If you’ve got the balls for it.”  
“Anyways!” Anne-Marie spoke obnoxiously loud, breaking the tension in two as she did so. Quincy was glancing around warily, as if her own Death was going to shimmer to reality in front of her. How scary, these mysterious shadows were to the rosy living. How awful they thought of those who gathered them in arms after simply watching, waiting, for years on end.  
“My birthday party, you two are invited-- Bring gifts! If you don’t I’ll flog you with a twig, do you hear me?”  
“With a real long, sharp twig!” Julia added.  
“Now if you would please, leave!” Anne-Marie finished. Alala waved goodbye casually, not bothering to argue with the other ladies on whether the two boys should stay or not. Julia was the only one to hop up, walking back over to Alfred and Matthew.  
“Come on, let’s go then. Say have you-- oof!” Julia cut herself off by running into the doorframe, rubbing where she had hit before merely changing her course of movement and continuing with whatever she had been saying. Alfred looked to Matthew in bewilderment, Lysimanche a puff of brown feathers upon his shoulder, and merely got an equally confused glance back.  
“-- so what I figure is--” Julia was still talking when Matthew and Alfred caught up with her farther down the hallway. What she was talking about they couldn’t guess for she either kept getting distracted, bumping into things, or in general going off on some wild tangents. They gave up trying to understand her at the point when she slumped against a wall, fell asleep momentarily, and then woke up talking about polar bears.  
When the boys left the place, they could hardly remember why they had come to begin with. Aimlessly walking onward towards the gardens, it was when Alfred’s stomach gave a long low rumble that the two recalled their original quest. It was a little too late to go back to the other building and retrieve food now. In the end the two children just sat amongst the flowers for a while, earning themselves a surprise when they rotated to the roses.  
There sitting among the last of the late season roses was Francis, accompanied by Antonio and Fidelia. The two were talking about something, laughing along to some joke Antonio had told. Alfred froze upon seeing Antonio, thoughts churning and whirring like clock gears in his head. Matthew lagged behind in the revelation, and was the one to open his mouth and exclaim aloud when the answer hit him like a load of bricks.  
“Mister Francis, get away from--!” Alfred’s hand instinctively slapped over Matthew’s mouth, hurting the boy in the process and causing Ottium to hiss violently. Francis lurched, startled from being shouted at, and Antonio seemed equally bewildered at the whole thing. Fidelia chirped noisily and insistently, not saying much while doing so.  
“Mathieu? Alfred-- What are you two doing here? Shouldn’t you be elsewhere?” Despite no longer truly being the two’s tutor, Francis still spoke to them with that recognizable tone. Antonio took one look at Alfred and made a clear face of dislike, perhaps even disgust. Alfred’s face contorted into a look that could only be described as pure unadulterated hatred. Even Antonio seemed taken aback by such a young face capturing the emotion. Francis was downright bewildered.  
“Alfred, what in God’s name--” Matthew finally pried Alfred’s hand from his face at this point and took a gulp of air.  
“Mister Francis, get away from that man!”  
“ _You!_ ” Alfred finally spoke, voice having dropped in pitch slightly-- thick with rage.  
“Boys!” Brittany was to her feet now, uncharacteristically upset as she bared her fangs in the direction of the two kids. Ottium fearfully responded with a low pitched wail, a warning. Lysimanche took wing and swooped after Fidelia with a scream, prompting Antonio to screech in alarm and panic, trying to protect his daemon from the advancing talons. Francis could not take to simply asking questions as he rounded on Antonio, who was actually being raked by Lysimanche’s unforgiving attack as he shielded Fidelia. With a deep inhale he pulled his hand back and struck the assaulting daemon away, Alfred releasing a weak high pitched cry as he fell to his knees. Matthew dropped by Alfred and shook his arm, speaking in an unintelligible mixture of panic-broken French and English. Breathing heavily, Francis rounded on the two as Lysimanche tried to recover from where she had landed on the ground. Ottium had rushed to her side, standing over her protectively.  
“What in the Hell-- do you think you are doing!?” Alfred was already struggling to stand again, Matthew fearfully holding him back and down as Brittany and Francis turned their attention on them.  
“He’s the one! He’s the one!” Alfred’s nonsense yelling did little to help his case as he accusingly pointed his finger at Antonio. The man’s complexion had paled sickeningly as he cradled his injured arm. The gashes from Lysimanche’s seemingly impossible attack were deep and brutal, leaking blood out onto the ground. Matthew had begun to cry and blubber, tugging uselessly on Alfred’s other arm.  
“Get out! Get out of here! GO!” Francis took one heavy step towards Alfred, face livid. Ottium picked up Lysimanche and went running, Matthew turning to take off after his daemon. Alfred lingered behind for only a moment before he felt strained and stumbled once, twice, and three times backwards. Spitting at both Antonio and Francis, much to the shock and disgust of the latter, Alfred hobbled away and then took off in a sprint after Matthew.  
Alfred only managed to catch up with Matthew when he entered their room and found Matthew huddled up next to the nightstand between their beds. Lysimanche rejoined with Alfred now, gripping tightly to his shirt in the form of a small monkey. Matthew was clutching Ottium to his chest as well, although his daemon was in the form of a rabbit.  
“... That was him.” Matthew’s voice came out weak and watery. Alfred’s rage flared up again but he merely squeezed Lysimanche and took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he did so.  
“Mister Francis was really angry…” Matthew added now, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. Sitting down across from him, Alfred grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes.  
“Mister Francis,” He started in a slightly mocking tone. “Can bite my ass!” Matthew recoiled at the crude language, mouth falling agape slightly. He hadn’t heard Alfred ever curse before, not like that, and frankly Alfred seemed slightly guilty for saying such a thing.  
“Is she okay?” She, was obviously Lysimanche. Despite still having the creeping feeling accompanied with being touched by strange hands, the odd sense of violation, she was fine. It felt much like how the static of a television looked, prickling across her skin. Alfred could feel it as well. What they had just done was very wrong. Unnatural even; he supposed he and Matthew were now on the same page in a way. My how the days seemed to drag out so long. It felt as if nothing had happened at all that day, but looking back on it, hadn’t many things transpired? Looking down and taking another deep breath, Alfred heaved a sigh that devolved into a yawn.  
“She’s alright… Matthew, hey, I’m sorry about that. About this. I… I lost it.” It could be anything. His temper, his relationship with Francis, maybe even his right to stay in the college as a resident. Lord knew what would happen to him if he was sent to live permanently with Arthur now. Although, this had started because of Arthur hadn’t it? That man, he had tried to…  
To what?  
Alfred paused as he thought about it. He just knew that whatever had been put in that drink was poisonous. Somehow he just knew. Sampson had went to drink it and… Had it not been Sampson, would he had stopped them from drinking it?  
Of course he would have-- that was the right thing to do!  
What if it HAD been Arthur? Would he have stopped his uncle from drinking that tampered whiskey? Or would he have stood by and watched him drink it to the last drop, falter, and slowly begin to convulse until--  
“Alfred?” Apparently the dark expression Alfred had begun to make had frightened Matthew something fiercely. Lysimanche had her small pinched face pressed firmly against Alfred’s chest still, and the boy grunted slightly when he unclenched his jaw. He hadn’t realized he had been biting so tightly.  
“It’s alright… I was just, thinking, that’s all.”  
“About what?” In a moment’s consideration Alfred imagined Matthew, small and timid, busting out of the wardrobe in his stead. He shook the image away.  
“Nothing important… You know, we didn’t get any food. Aren’t you hungry?” Matthew stared at Alfred in silence for a measure and then slowly shook his head to ‘n fro. Actually, he felt quite sick to his stomach. Like he might vomit. Briefly the word nauseous came to mind. It was a word he had heard used by the scholars sometimes to describe how they felt when the winds rushed the wrong direction in summer. The smell from the stables and barn made them sick-- made them nauseous. That was how felt.  
“No, not at all. I thought you were hungry?” Alfred shook his head again. Somewhere, the clock chimed. A thought dawned on the elder of the boys as he heard it. Francis was bound to tell Sampson about what had happened. Or would he have to tell Sampson? Would the man understand if Alfred told him rather than Francis. After all, Francis had no idea what had transpired before him. Antonio likely didn’t realize why he was being attacked in the first place either. The whole thing had been rather sudden, abrupt, fleeting. Surely if Alfred told Sampson he had located the attempted assassin, he could get some points off for flying into a blind rage and accidentally willing his daemon to attack the man. Surely…  
“You are not thinking about nothing.” Matthew’s voice snapped Alfred back to reality again. The boy was right. He was thinking about everything, currently. Alfred was tired and frustrated and his skin wasn’t sitting right on him-- he wanted to lie down and go to sleep but almost feared that he would dream of his own uncle’s death in doing so. What an awful nephew he was, fantasizing about such things.  
“You can tell, huh?”  
“Mhm… Is it about Mister Francis?”  
“No.”  
“... It’s about your uncle, isn’t it.” That Matthew could hit the nail on the head like that spooked Alfred slightly, but he merely swallowed dryly and nodded. Maintaining eye contact, Matthew didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to read Alfred’s thoughts.  
“Do you want to hear a poem?” The question caught Alfred off guard. He had been expecting Matthew to bring his shame to light, having plucked it from the dark corner of his mind from whence it came. This was a pleasant alternative.  
“You promise it won’t be a boring one, like last time?” There was a half smile from Matthew as he slowly shifted to his knees and then went to reach under the bed. He reached under the wrong bed on accident, at first, due to the flipped situation, but corrected himself accordingly. Out came that familiar blue book with a pretty feather sticking out of it. Briefly Alfred wondered where Matthew might have picked it up.  
“I promise, yeah.” As Ottium shifted to the form of a cat and hopped up upon the bed, Alfred stood and took his place next to the daemon on the bed. Matthew eventually joined them after finding a poem to use and sighed as he looked over it.  
“Here, this one.”  
“... Navy Blue, Black?” Matthew didn’t answer to Alfred’s inquiry about the title of the poem and rather began to read it.  
“Silence ridden, Navy Blue and Black, interrupted by the faintest lights from cracks. Peaceful swinging, round about and back, breezing by in gusts that violence, lacks...” Alfred leaned against Matthew now, Lysimanche settled comfortably in his lap. The two sat like this for a while, a simple anxiety bubbling gently under the surface as they waited for some kind of repercussions for what had happened. For perhaps Sampson to come and show them a bit more of that frightening anger they had witness of him once upon a time. He never came. It never came. Instead they sat and pondered upon Navy Blue, Black-- quietly accepted when dinner came a bit later than usual-- then turned in early to bed, sharing one for the first time in a while, and drifted off to a fitful rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took forever, but I finally churned out the 7th chapter of Dust to Dust. I solemnly apologize if this chapter was too slow or too disorganized. To be honest, it's all my fault that it 1) took this long and 2) turned out this way. I had a pretty bad time management issue and the timeline for the story got really messed up about half way into the chapter and I had to go back and rewrite nearly all of it.  
> I hope you can all forgive me! I really truly didn't mean for this to happen. As always... Comment of subscribe if you enjoy the story! I'm always so overjoyed to see comments, and don't forget to tell your pals. 
> 
> Happy 1 Year to DtD (1/22/15)
> 
> Thank you for reading; Addio.


	8. Mirth and Merriment

It was two months down the line from the unfortunate day that occurred in September when Sampson turned thirty-three. Two months after Anne-Marie Abney turned eighteen, and two months past the harsh punishment Alfred had been given upon Sampson catching wind of the dreaded ‘incident’. Alas! It wouldn’t be until three months had passed, December rolling around, that anyone’s mood would lift. The winters of England were unpleasant things usually, and in this particular area they were often plagued by sleet and slush. Ice would come down in hard pelting fashions, and should someone be unlucky enough they would have to venture out into it for any number of reasons.  
Fortunately enough for any of those involved, no such thing was needed. Instead, after a long wait, a genuinely welcomed snow began to pile around the streets. It didn’t come in piles, as it would be more accustomed to do, but rather gentle drifts that laborers would not be devastated to try and shovel. Salt was sprinkled in the roadways and coats bundled tighter as people emerged from their homes to greet the true spirit of Winter first hand. For nothing got people in quite a good mood as snow did; snow was most often associated with the best of Holiday seasons.  
Now this was hardly going to be the first time that Alfred and Matthew had seen snow, and it certainly was not going to be the last time they were witness to it, but this was the first time that they together had seen snow-- and it was this that truly made it special.  
When the two boys had woken, they hadn’t realized that the snow had fallen that night. It had happened silently, without their knowledge, for admittedly the boys had stayed up later than they should have. They were woken by Sampson. He had since stopped Alfred’s more rigorous training due to it being far too unsuitable outside and now rather was in charge of keeping their meals and making sure they didn’t run off and do anything incredibly stupid. That was how he put it anyways. Either way or, Matthew had noticed that both Sampson and Alfred were beginning to lighten up skin-wise. Their sun tans were finally being stolen from them by the clutches of the sunless times, and silently Matthew was glad. He never could get a tan himself and was rather prone to simply burning. He had always been a bit envious of the other two for being able to develop tanlines.  
After breakfast had been done with, Sampson had casually said that it had snowed and for a couple moments neither of the boys really reacted with any sense of urgency or excitement. It wasn’t until they looked at one another and realized they finally had a friend to play in the snow with, properly, that they stood. Sampson realized automatically what they meant to do and hummed out a sigh. He supposed he had set himself up for that one, hadn’t he?  
There was about a half hour of fussing about the two children wearing proper clothing before Sampson would even consider letting them out into the snow. Scarves, mittens, hats, underclothes, undercoats, overcoats-- You name it and Sampson forced the boys into it. The worst trouble was finding a pair of boots for Matthew to wear that weren’t either worn out or two sizes too big. Eventually they were forced to settle for the worn out boots and put a pair of extra socks on the kid’s feet to keep him from catching cold. Sampson himself rather put on an extra shirt, a scarf, and pulled his usual coat on. The cold didn’t seem to bother him like he worried it would the younger two.  
Waddling their way down the stairs, daemons prancing behind them, Alfred and Matthew finally managed to make it into the wide expanses of the Jordan Lawn in winter. The sun reflecting off the snow was momentarily blinding and from behind their scarves and the collars of their coats the boys made twin expressions-- a good long hard squint. Sampson’s expression was one of consideration as he looked around to see if there was anything he should worry about the boys getting into. Though he saw nothing of concern, the two children hardly waited for his approval to begin their frolicking-- even if froclicking was a tad bit difficult when one was bundled up to look like a fat lamb. Ai, but if the lambs could do it so could they.  
Prancing along merrily, it was Alfred who got his first mitten full of snow and observed it with consideration. Looking to Matthew, he saw the younger boy had done the same. Gaze flicking to Sampson, who had his hands stuffed in his pockets and was currently looking down-- kicking snow, Alfred noted-- the boy gave a slow grin. Back to Matthew he glanced and then he nodded in Sampson’s direction. Matthew seemed confused for a moment before the thought clicked and his eyes narrowed with glee. Alfred stooped and picked up some more snow, finding it a tad bit different rolling snow in mittens than rolling mud with his bare hands. Then, once he had a snowball of suitable size, he pulled his arm back and hurled it Sampson-bound.  
The snowball struck Sampson right in the chest, surprising him mostly and prompting him to shoot the boys a look of mild shock. Alfred pointed at Matthew, who had dropped his own snowball on accident, and snickered as Sampson gave a frown and dropped into a squat. The time it took Sampson to make a good snowball was notably less than that which it had take Alfred and in no time Matthew got hit with a ball of powder.  
Alfred rather exploded into laughter upon Matthew falling on his butt in the snow from the hit, having lost his balance when he attempted to shield himself from the attack. There was a slight snort of amusement from Sampson who dusted his gloves off comically and looked over to see Adelaide bouncing through the snow. Taking the last step down off the stones of the entry staircase, Sampson pulled the collar of his coat up and went off at a brisk walk to catch up with his daemon as she went after the currently lumbering bear shaped Ottium.  
Lysimanche had taken the form of a snowbird, hopping along the fragile crust of the snow while Ottium and Adelaide meandered their way through it. Alfred occasionally would chase after her, involuntarily dodging some of the revenge snowballs that Matthew tried to toss his way. Sampson surprised the youngest boy when he set a hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to be quiet. While Alfred gave chase after his daemon again and Adelaide and Ottium rolled around in the snow together, Sampson began to make a snowball. This snowball progressively got bigger until Sampson was holding it in his arms. It looked like a big white boulder nearly. Alfred had stopped again, simply entertaining himself by picking snow up and throwing it into the air-- Sampson crept up behind him oddly silent. Matthew snickered. Alfred paused. More silence. Sampson crept forward again. Matthew giggled. Alfred turned his head slightly. Lysimanche was still too distracted by the snow.  
It was then that Sampson lifted the snowball and promptly dropped it on Alfred’s head. There was a sound like a pillow might make when you hit someone with it and a shriek of surprise from Alfred as Sampson burst out laughing. It was a warm and pleasant sound; Matthew quickly joined in.  
After several minutes of Sampson being chased around by Alfred, who occasionally gave chase to Matthew when prompted to, the group wound down and ended up taking seats in the snow. Sampson fell on his back at some point and promptly began moving his arms and legs about, much to the surprise and mild confusion of Alfred and Matthew. When Sampson sat back up he stood automatically in order to admire his handiwork. A snow angel, he informed the boys. Now the man’s back was dusted with powder. Alfred jumped up and started brushing it off, rather smacking Sampson’s back then really getting any of the snow off. Matthew amused himself with taking a shot at the task of creating his own snow angel.  
Alfred went last, adding his own angelic imprint into the snow. There before them were three winged messengers, the tallest one in the middle and the smallest on the left. After a couple trials, there was a small flock forming around the original three angels, as if the rest of the Heavens were coming down to play. Sampson neglected to make a second snow angel, and rather left for a short period of time before returning.  
They played on the lawn of Jordan for quite a while before Alfred and Matthew began to think broader. They had built a snowman, tried their hand at crafting themselves an igloo, had gone another round of lobbing snow at one another, and eventually even resorted to going to the gardens to view the frozen vegetation and water from the fountains. When Alfred asked Sampson if they could go into town, the man seemed momentarily mortified. As if Alfred had told him he had contracted polio rather than just requesting for them to go off college grounds.  
In the end he agreed that they could go into town, but only for a while and not too far in. Matthew and Alfred could deal with that. The Vargas house wasn’t far away, and it would be nice to accompany their friends on this snow day. That was, if they weren’t busy.  
Upon exiting the college with a wave off from the jolly gatekeeper, who gave Matthew a familiar smile as they walked past her, the boys were eager to go. So eager in fact, that they completely forgot that Sampson wasn’t fully aware that they came here often without him knowing. Rather, without anyone knowing. Sampson trailed in bewilderment as they rushed off, pushing and shoving each other playfully as they went. Their arrival into the Vargas house came as a shock to Sampson as he rushed into the home after them with intention of pulling them out, thinking that they were trespassing. When Io intervened, Sampson was not ready.  
The broom collided with the side of his face with a harsh thwacking sound, and the boys yelled in unison as Io raised it again to strike Sampson once more. The man had raised his arms in defense, not having much else to do despite his years of training in hand to hand combat. All bowed to the wrath of a mother in the end, regardless of experience. Io paused, staring at Alfred and Matthew as they explained the situation to both Io and Sampson alike. Sadık meandered out at this point, having been awoken by the ruckus, and Herakles followed close behind. Michelangelo was sitting at the kitchen table, where he had been watching his mother clean, and was slack jawed at the sudden commotion.  
Sampson apologized to Io repeatedly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as she put the broom away momentarily to give Alfred and Matthew hugs. Sadık waved lazily in greeting while Herakles folded his arms over his chest and nodded. There was certainly a full house.  
“Boys! Feliciano! Lovino!” Io’s hollering brought the twins out of the back bedroom quickly. From the looks of it they had been asleep. Lovino had dragged his blanket with him, eyes squinted shut. He bumped into his brother from behind as Feliciano came to a stop, wide eyed. He was staring at Sampson.  
“Uh-- Pardon. Really, this is an awful-- I’ll step out!” When Sampson tried to exit, Io’s hand snapped out and snagged him by the coat sleeve.  
“It’s freezing out there, man. Don’t be dumb! Sit down somewhere. The boys are fine. I was just ready to fix a meal, anyhow. Lovino, a pulire. Grígora.” Lovino murmured something in response to the command and shuffled away, leaving Feliciano to drift over to Sadık and Herakles now that his twin was gone. He took a hold of Sadık’s arm in a juvenile manner and kept his gaze trained on Sampson. Matthew and Alfred had since shed some of their clothes and taken their seats at the table, chattering with Micha happily.  
“Take your coat off, Mister…”  
“O’Reily. Sampson would do though, ma’am.”  
“Is that Scottish?”  
“Irish, ma’am.” Io nodded, making idle small talk with this stranger who she only knew had once given Alfred a bruised face. A vague memory of her husband once mentioning Arthur Kirkland’s lapdog nagged at her, but she dismissed it subconsciously.  
“Well, Sampson, feel free to take off your coat and take a seat. I am Io, Io Vargas. These are my sons-- Herakles, my oldest. Feliciano and Lovino are my middle children. Twins. Over there is Michelangelo. His father named him. We all call him Micha. Micha, pes geia! Saluta!” Micha responded quickly to the Italian, waving at Sampson before returning to his babble with Alfred and Matthew.  
“A pleasure, really, Missus Io. Would that man be your husband then?” Io snorted, an odd sound from someone who looks like her, and laughed loudly. Sadık cracked a grin and nudged Herakles with his elbow, leaning in to say something that earned him a slap to the arm and a scowl.  
“No! No, sir! That’s my boy Hera’s friend-- Sadık!”  
“Good morning, sir!” Sadık greeted. Dilara had finally come up behind him and pushed her broad head against the backs of his legs. Sampson paled slightly at the sight of her.  
“Good morning to you too, sir. An impressive daemon you have. Must have a strong soul.” It was not often people commented on the forms of others daemons, and when they did it was often negative. Upon the positive praise Sadık looked prideful, as if indeed content with his fearsome daemon. Rhea, who was indeed dwarfed compared to Dilara, merely panted noisily in frustration.  
“Well, I better get to cooking. Feliciano, check on your brother to make sure he didn’t fall asleep. And no sleeping yourself! Hera, continue sweeping for me, and Sadık you dust.” There was a chorus of yes’s that swelled through the house while Io started to pace about gathering ingredients. Sampson awkwardly sat himself at the kitchen table near Alfred and Matthew. Alfred cast a momentary glance back at him while Sampson looked around the house. It was, as it had always been, a quaint little establishment. A verified shack that likely reminded Sampson a bit of his own childhood home. It was a nice atmosphere, it was simply that he felt he was intruding.  
“-- and then we get to have Saturnalia!” The conversation that the boys were having drew Sampson’s attention now. Micha was excitedly telling the boys about the holiday plans the family had. He recognized quickly the name of the pagan festival and froze, eyeing Io’s back as she continued to work on food things.  
“Saturn...alie? Saturnalia?” Matthew was the first to ask questions, scooting in close to Micha and giving the younger boy his full attention.  
“It’s a festival-- Mama says so, that they used to have real big parties. Papa’s old home is the place where it still happens. I’m sad here is no Saturnalia. We got Christmas though!”  
“Saturnalia. That’s the old Roman holiday. It’s rolling around soon, I heard. December seventeenth.” Sampson added.  
“To the twenty-third, Sampson.”  
“You observe it?”  
“Do you not?” The question and tone of Io’s rebuttal caught Sampson off guard. She was treating it as if it were a common thing. As if all people of England did for a fact celebrate Saturnalia and Sampson had simply been duped and tricked into thinking they did not. He paused for a long moment before blinking and trying to come up with a retort.  
“I’m… Sorry to say, I do not, ma’am. My relations with the church are strained enough.” Io hummed tunelessly in response before turning, her stola-esque outfit now more obviously the garment itself than usual. She looked as if she had stepped right off the mountain to meet a challenger, prepared to send Sampson crawling away on eight spindly legs.  
“That’s really a shame, Sampson. It is the best of days.” The words caused another falter as she turned back around and continued what she had been doing. Herakles, who had been slowly sweeping while listening, made a soft sound like a laugh. Sadık arched his eyebrows up at this in mild confusion while Sampson cleared his throat.  
“I’m sure… But boys-- Fred, Matthew-- are you really thinking of Christmas? I wouldn’t have thought they observed it in the college.”  
“Oh, they do!” Alfred chimed up finally, not even seeming to care about the slight tenseness of the air currently.  
“The scholars will gather for feasts all day and drink a lot, and if they like one another they give gifts they bought from in town.”  
“The servants do that too-- except they have this big thing where they all get someone's name from a bucket and they do something nice for them or get them something they need for the coming year. I think some of them even do prayer…” Sampson was surprised to hear any of this. He had thought for sure there would be no celebrations of such a deeply church-tied holiday in the midst of the college. At the same time it was nice to know the boys had grown up with the specialness of a December holiday in their lives. Being a kid in a place like that was hard.  
There was a short moment where Micha went rambling on about Christmas presents and Alfred and Matthew listened intently. The boys were not entirely sure as to some of the gifts that the young boy had been prattling about, but they were well enough intrigued by the thoughts of getting something for Christmas. Both of them had pondered over the idea themselves, but not as much as they would probably like to admit. Alfred was more familiar with Christmas gifts than Matthew was, unsurprisingly. His uncle had occasionally sent some, but he knew better than to think too highly of this; all the cards that came with the gifts were clearly in Sampson’s handwriting. Matthew confessed then that he would like to have a satchel to carry things in, or a pocketwatch and chain. Micha expressed an equal interest in a satchel and then talked about a game that involved small metal pieces and glass marbles. Feliciano and Lovino eventually joined into the conversation, shying away from Sampson and instead sitting near their younger brother.  
Feliciano mentioned music boxes from Austria while Lovino expressed that he wanted to have a wood carving from Spain. Finally the question was tossed to Alfred-- What did he want for Christmas? Sampson seemed to zero in on this, rubbing his hands over his knees as he glanced to Alfred. The boy was pondering over it thoughtfully, grinding his teeth unconsciously as he did so.  
“I think, for Christmas, I’d like to see the lights.” There was a pause as the other children tried to figure what lights Alfred meant.  
“You mean… Like the swamp ghasts?” Lovino tried slowly. Alfred shook his head vigorously.  
“No, no-- What even is a swamp ghast? I mean the lights in the north-- The Northern Lights.” Sampson froze up, visibly tensed at the mere mention of the Northern Lights.  
“Northern Lights?... North of Oxford?”  
“In the Arctic Circle. Up past the lands of Ice--”  
“Alfred.” Sampson cut in now, conscious of the look Io gave him as he did so. Alfred met his gaze lazily, not rushing himself to do so. Up his eyebrows arched as his lips quirked slightly in an expression that was so uniquely Alfred it nearly hurt a bit. It was a bit stand-off-ish. As if asking, ‘What do you want now’? Matthew was observing them both neutrally.  
“You know it’s not nice to… show off, in front’a others. You know that.”  
“Show off?” For several mere seconds Alfred seemed confused before connecting his own set of dots. He came strictly to the conclusion that he would be seeing the lights come Christmas. He was poorly mistaken, but a boy can dream.  
“Ah-- Well, this all sounds lovely dandy but! Has anyone of us done to ask the missus what she’d like for the holidays?” Io turned to look at Sampson again, slightly surprised but still on guard. Her children looked to her now, Sadık included as he continued to sweep steadily.  
“Mama, what do you want for Christmas?” Micha piped up, rubbing his hand across his cheek. Io stopped what she was doing to lean back against the countertop, looking out the window at Adelphos with a thoughtful expression upon her face. Sampson released a small sigh of relief at having successfully diverted the conversation elsewhere.  
“Micha, bambino, I think what Mama wants most for Christmas is for your Papa to come home. And for you to learn to keep your clothes on.” Micha blinked blankly at this and puffed air from his nose.  
“I want Papa home too. Don’t wanna wear clothes though. They’re itchy.” Io rolled her eyes at this statement and turned back around now. Lovino sidled up and propped his elbows on the table as he frowned.  
“Mama, when is Papa coming home?”  
“Lovino, you remember the letter.” Feliciano chided softly before his mother could answer.  
“Yeah, but that letter was months ago! Surely he should have been able to finish all his work and make it back to England by now.”  
“Lovino, don’t snap at your brother like that.”  
“Your dad?” Alfred seemed lost to the concept of the Vargas boys having an actual living father all of a sudden. As if the man had simply been a concept before and not a reality.  
“Si, mio papà. He’s somewhere in Africa right now.” Sampson seemed interested suddenly as the gears began to click into place.  
“You said your last name was Vargas? As in, Romulus Vargas?”  
“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Lovino switched straight to challenging, earning a noise of warning from Io as Feliciano tugged on his arm in discouragement.  
“Much to me-- I know the man. I knew had a wife, but I didn’t know he had… Well, gotten so busy.” Io nearly dropped her utensil at this and turned to look at Sampson again in shock.  
“Not that-- that’s a bad thing! Er, uh-- Go forth and.. Multiply? Ah…er, ‘m sorry, my pardon.”  
“Sampson, stop being dumb, would you! You’re making yourself look bad!” This well meant advice came from Alfred. He was make a rather displeased expression Sampson’s way, scowling almost.  
“If I didn’t know better, I would say Mister Sampson doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Matthew added softly. Alfred took moment to register this before turning on Matthew.  
“Of course he does! Sampson talks to loads of girls I bet. He is an adventurer and all!” The look on Sampson’s face was that of a man who had realized his mistakes all a second too late and as he swallowed thickly it was clear to see the perspiration break on his upper lip.  
“I don’t see how those relate! Counterargument: Mister Sampson works with only men!” Matthew seemed triumphant with this point while the man in question looked the other way and rubbed the sweat off his lip.  
“What I’m gathering from this is that we SHOULD be asking Sampson if he catches or pitches.” Io’s words caused Sampson to jolt in his seat.  
“Ai! Woman!” The laughter that erupted across the house was amazingly loud. Matthew and Alfred didn’t understand the laughter but seeing Sampson turn beet red and sputter to try and say something on his own behalf was highly amusing.  
“Perhaps we should be moving on from this then, don’t you think!” Io waved a dismissive hand, beaming in a warm smile as she shook her head at Sampson. Feliciano nudged his twin with a waggle of the eyebrows; Lovino pushed him back with an outraged gasp.  
“Don’t worry, man! We’re a queer household ourself if you didn’t notice. No fear of judgement, Sampson-- No fear!” This didn’t seem to ease Sampson much by the looks of the hue of his skin, but he did sigh in a resigned manner. Herakles muttered something to Sadık and the two entered in a short pushing contest before going back to cleaning, suppressing mild laughter.  
“I’d really rather we not discuss my personal life, ai?”  
“Of course, Sampson. Of course. So, boys, speaking of the holiday seasons-- would it be that you might be spending them here?” Alfred and Matthew both paused before jittering in sudden excitement, looking between one another and then back to Io.  
“Could we really?”  
“Well I wouldn’t see why you couldn’t. You spend enough time here already. If Christmas is a family gathering, it wouldn’t be complete without my two other sons, now would it?” Sampson leaned back, slightly in awe and slightly in the fact he needed to gather himself again. The boys were now rejoicing at the prospect of spending the holidays with the Vargas family, completely forgetting poor O’Reily sitting right there. The twins laughed along, sharing in the idea of Alfred and Matthew staying for Christmas and joked casually on if Alfred would get coal in his stocking.  
The merry making and festive imaging went on a while longer until the meal Io was working on was served and everybody settled down in the kitchen and at the dining table. Talking was sparse while eating occurred, but once they were all done and dishes were put to the sink the group began to converse again. Mostly about random things such as what Feliciano was learning with Roderich now, and how business was doing at the Ackerman’s bakery. When Lovino’s wedding was, and if Adenah was going to be taking his last name or not. After all, Adenah Vargas didn’t have quite the ring to it that Adenah Ackerman did. Lovino seemed a bit insulted at the insinuation and countered with the fact Lovino Ackerman sounded weird as well. Io kindly suggest Adenah take her maiden name, but Feliciano dismissed it saying people might believe she had married Herakles and not Lovino.  
Sampson made the rare add in and offered that perhaps they could hyphenate their names together. That way Lovino could still be Lovino Vargas and Adenah could be Adenah Ackerman-Vargas. That way she was legally made a Vargas, but was also still aligned with the Ackerman clan. Io thought over this and hummed thoughtfully, saying that this kind of idea would’ve been useful when she was getting wed. Feliciano made a sound like a laugh and then asked if that meant they would all be Karpusi-Vargas or Vargas-Karpusi. Io retorted that it would definitely be the former. Just because she loved their father didn’t mean she would give up the chance to spread her family name over his. After all, Romulus Vargas had a twin brother to help extend the family with. It was then that Lovino perked up.  
“Mama, where is Uncle Remus anyways? We haven’t heard news from him since forever.” Io paused, brow furrowing, and pressed her lips together in a line.  
“You know, Lovi, baby, I don’t know. I’m sure he’s out in the wide world doing something productive. You know he was always a little less ambitious than your father. He’s probably lounging somewhere sunny drinking sea water and chewing gum leaves.” Alfred cocked his head at this and looked to Lovino.  
“You have an uncle too?”  
“Si, he’s my papa’s twin.” Feliciano cut in here.  
“The Vargas family is well known for having twins.” Io rolled her eyes at this.  
“Your papa warned me about that, but I didn’t believe him. I thought I’d proved him wrong with Herakles, but then you two popped out.” Sampson chuckled softly at this and covered his mouth in earnest. Matthew glanced between the twins and wondered if Remus and his twin were anything like Lovino and Feliciano.  
“What’s your uncle like? Is he strict?”  
“No where near it! He reminds me of Feliciano sometimes. He’s even the younger twin.”  
“Hey, I’m not the younger twin!”  
“Are too! Mama said I was born first!”  
“How would she know? We’re identical!”  
“Boys!”  
“Sorry, Mama.” The apology was said in unison as Lovino and Feliciano discreetly kicked one another under the kitchen table. Matthew was giggled now while Alfred frowned slightly in impatience.  
“So he’s… Not strict?”  
“No-- if anything, our Papa might be the strict one. Uncle Remus is fun and loose and--”  
“Irresponsible.” Lovino butt in.  
“He’s amazing.” Feliciano corrected.  
“But not as amazing as Papa.” Lovino countered. Feliciano nodded in agreement and sighed softly.  
“He’s not perfect, but I like him. He visits sometimes, but he and Papa are both wanderers. Mama says she and Papa used to travel the world together. They settled down for a while to have Hera, but then he couldn’t stand being cooped up and left for a bit. Just traveled around Oxford for a while.”  
“He always came back. Felt bad about leaving me behind. Said it wasn’t the same without his favorite adventurer.” Io mused dreamily. Lovino looked at her with some semblance of sadness before turning back to the conversation.  
“He started going back and forth between staying home and going out, but he kept going farther out each time. Eventually Mama told him he could go, just go ahead, since it was obviously killing him to stay in one place for so long. He asked her if she was sure and when she said yes he ran. Sometime I envy him… It must be amazing to travel the world!” Io reached over and ruffled Feliciano’s hair affectionately.  
“Hera and Lovino took after me, as you can see. Feliciano has the classic Vargas spirit in him… Oh, Felicia-- you’re going to go beautiful places one day, bambino.” The touching moment between mother and son lasted a heartbeat before Feliciano merely smiled at Io and turned back to his friends and guests.  
“Classic Vargas Spirit, huh.” Matthew muttered. Alfred eyed the shorter boy with raised eyebrows, having heard his under the breath remark.  
“Personally, I think it’s sort of dumb to stay wandering around like that when you have family.” Lovino chimed in at last, having gone quiet for several moments. Io frowned at this and seemed to falter in hesitance, as if Lovino had dredged up an old insecurity of hers. Feliciano bumped his arm against his twin’s and huffed.  
“Sometimes you can’t help it, you know.”  
“Well then I hope you never wed or bear children. They wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”  
“Lovino.” Io spoke softly but firmly and silence both her children automatically. Herakles had gone mute, shoulders slumped with a rare weight of sadness as he averted his gaze elsewhere and feigned disinterest in the conversation. Sadık knowingly rubbed his arm, Dilara standing on Herakles other side hovering just in the range of touch.  
“Well, it’s true. It’s cruel to do that, Mama, and you know it.” While Io opened her mouth, eyes flashing with irritation, Alfred cut in.  
“You do have a point, Lovino.” Although Alfred meant to support the obviously upset Vargas boy, Lovino rounded on him defensively and grit his teeth.  
“How would you know, huh?” Matthew shifted in discomfort and curled his nails into the palms of his hands. Ottium bared his teeth anxiously and looked to Alfred and Lysimanche with worry.  
“You know just because my dad is dead doesn’t mean I don’t know what it feels like to have a family member who’s alive but never there.” Alfred’s words floored Lovino, the boy’s mouth dropping open in shock. Sampson grabbed Alfred’s arm tightly now and murmured an incoherent warning. Alfred didn’t budge or even turn to look at him but rather kept Lovino’s gaze. Feliciano stared at Alfred as if he was just realizing the boy had a third eye on his face. Neither of them had known about this ahead of time. Strange that they would just be figuring it out, but then again-- Alfred never particularly enjoyed talking about it.  
“You two need to tone it down a notch. No such talk. Now is times for celebration. I understand both of you are feeling things, terribly things, but eventually they will no longer affect you. You are surrounded by friends and family now, and that is what matters.” Io’s words were sharp but showed understanding. The tension relaxed slightly as the two boys broke eye contact. Although they were indeed good friends, Alfred and Lovino were not strangers to butting heads over personal matters. Matthew didn’t speak at all on the subject, lost on how he felt about it all. Instead he pulled Ottium up into his lap and hugged him tightly. Sampson released Alfred’s arm now and rubbed the boy’s back firmly in broad circles.  
“Io does speak truths. Although I do think we have perhaps overstayed our welcome. You two seem tired if anything and I’m sure you’d like to head home. We’ve stayed, eaten, made merry-- I think that counts as a complete house visit. Ma’am, thank you for having us. For having me. It’s been a pleasure, and the meal was delicious. Stay safe, stay warm. Alfred, Matthew? Shall we?” Sampson stood now and went to gather his coat, Adelaide at his heels as he went. Lysimanche puffed up indignantly at the idea that she could possibly overstay her welcome in the Vargas house but said nothing. Matthew was the first to stand after Sampson and trotted obediently after him. Alfred followed suit after him, not saying much as he waved goodbye to the others.  
“It was a pleasure to have you as well, Sampson. The boys are always welcomed here, and I’m sure they know of that. You stay safe on your trip back to the college. Goodbye boys. Megáli agápi.”  
“Goodbye, Missus Io. Bye Feliciano, Lovino, Micha. Bye Hera, Sadık.” Matthew was the only of the two to answer verbally as they exited the house bundled back up in their coats. Alfred merely waved again and get close by Sampson’s side. Sampson draped his arm around Alfred, letting the boy press against him as they walked. Thus the boys and their escort left the Vargas establishment, the town, and ventured their way back onto college grounds and subsequently meandered their way into the college.  
The rest of that day went by relatively unexciting, bland, and even depressing. A few times Matthew dared to open the window and played humbly with the snow that had collected on the sill before closing it again and merely looking out over the world of white. Off in the distance The Church loomed, though he tried his hardest to ignore it. The dawn of the next day went by with Alfred completing chores, indoor exercises, and his usual routines per the norm. This time when he completed these Matthew was heralded into the study room with him and sat down to read a book while Alfred did his studies.  
On this particular day, while Alfred was struggling over reading material and looked up enviously every time Matthew casually flipped a page of his own book, there was a blanket of silence surrounding the boys and Sampson. Little talk had passed between them, or even their daemons. Actions seemed sluggishly slow. Most of the morning couldn’t be recounted by any of the three, as it had seemed mostly like it passed by in a blur. So when Alfred casually stopped his reading and looked up at Sampson, it was literally the most exciting thing to happen all that day thus far.  
“Sampson. Sampson, hey.”  
“Mm? What is it, Fred.”  
“How do you ‘court’ people?” Sampson stirred in confusion at the question, squinting slightly at Alfred. Alfred kept his gaze steady and didn’t look back even as Matthew looked up from his own book discreetly and stared at him.  
“Courting? Like, romancing?”  
“Yeah, I guess.”  
“Why do you want to know about that?” He, being Sampson, seemed mostly confused at the idea of twelve year old Alfred wondering about how to court someone. As if the idea of the boy fancying someone was outlandish to him.  
“Just because. I thought it would be useful, you know? Since I’m supposed to be a grown up soon and all.” Alfred’s logic was… sound, surprisingly. Most people Alfred’s age had already begun to process of courting unless they were planning to enter a rigorous field such as a member of the church, college, political field, or adventuring. Which, even with Arthur’s clear wishes for which field Alfred should enter, the boy still hadn’t decided for himself.  
“Well… It’s sort of… Hard to explain, I suppose.” Sampson started, shifting forward in his chair as Alfred snapped his book shut and leaned back.  
“Usually you start off just trying to get the person’s attention. Such as, perhaps, introducing yourself and making casual conversation. Generally since arranged marriages are becoming less common you try to be friends with the person you wish to marry rather than not knowing anything about them.” Alfred nodded at Sampson’s word and kept his concentration steady, not even budging slightly as Lysimanche moved from sitting on the table to alighting upon his shoulder. Matthew’s brow furrowed further as he listened to this, still staring at Alfred in confusion.  
“Normally you give them gifts to show affection. Most people give, ah… Flowers? Jewelry if they can afford it. Special foods are common too. Ah, and then the better you know them-- well, I suppose you give them things you know they like.” Sampson knitted his fingers together now and rested his chin upon them. Alfred silently mimicked the position.  
“Did you ever court someone, Sampson?”  
“Me?”  
“Yeah, you.”  
“Well, ah…” Sampson paused now and stared down at the table as if thinking on the question and how he should answer it. Alfred arched an eyebrow with slight impatience and twiddled his thumbs.  
“Yes, I suppose I have. Why do you ask?”  
“Well, what’d you get… Uh, them.” Sampson eyed Alfred now with some kind of knowingness in his eyes and glanced Matthew’s way. Matthew quickly looked back down at his book, although any person would know he wasn’t truly reading but rather listening.  
“Just normal things, Fred. They… Weren’t a very picky individual. Rather not used to gifts, ‘d say. Each person is different though, Freddy. You know this person well?”  
“I never said I was trying to court someone in particular!” Alfred’s sudden defensiveness gave him away automatically. Sampson merely put his hands up in resignation and nodded.  
“Ai, ai, of course. Pardon me. Well, Fred, as long as you stay true and considerate you’ll do just fine courting about anyone. You’re growing up to be a fine young man, and I’m sure whatever--hm-- romantic endeavors you should take up will end smoothly.” Alfred nodded slowly at this and looked at his hands closely now.  
“Sampson, you should measure me. I want to know if I’ve grown any taller yet.”  
“Right now, Fred?”  
“Preferably, yes.” Sampson stood slowly and seemed to falter in movement for a split second before he turned to search for a meter stick. Upon finding one, Alfred jumped up and went to stand against a wall. Back straight and arms firmly at his side, his lifted his chin up and kept his eyes strained forward. Sampson pat Alfred’s stomach which earned a slight crack of a smile from the boy before he set the meter stick up and started to measure him. Once he was done he ruffled Alfred’s hair and laughed slightly.  
“Sorry, Freddy. You haven’t grown at all yet. You’re still only 153.”  
“Only?”  
“Only. That’s quite alright though. By the time your next birthday comes you’ll have sprouted like a bean, I’m sure! Matthew, would you like to see your height as well?”  
“I know I haven’t grown any, Sampson, sir. I don’t need to measure myself.” Matthew’s curt and knowing response made Sampson pause in surprise, then laugh. Matthew could be quite the strange child, honestly. Sampson set the meter stick aside now, tutting his tongue and shaking his head.  
“Sampson, say--” Alfred had started speaking again, having slipped back into his seat and crossed his legs. Tapping his fingers against the table in a rhythm, he stared off into space as he spoke.  
“Say what, Freddy?”  
“What was my dad like? I know you said you didn’t know him well, but you must know something. He was my uncle’s brother after all.”  
“Ah… Alfred… Well, that’s fair enough…” Matthew peered at Alfred curiously, unsure as to what had caused all this to resurface again.  
“He was an interesting man, as far as most lines go. Dedicated, hard working. Much like your uncle. It seems to run in the family, really.”  
“In the family?”  
“Ah? Yes, in the family. You’re a very dedicated and hardworking person as well, Fred. You just have a little less ambition. You’re more like your relatives in that regard.”  
“Other relatives?”  
“Yes, yes. Your uncle and father did have quite a few siblings from what I’ve heard. You’ve got an aunt you know, over in Ireland? She’s a real feisty lass. Owns her own farm, I hear, and has a little boy.”  
“I’ve got a cousin?”  
“Mmmhm. Don’t know much more about them though. Only what your uncle tells me… As for your father… Hm. He was… A very loving person.”  
“Did he love my mom?”  
“Oh, as sure as the sun shines. I believe he loved her very much actually. Her passing was very sudden, truly a shame how she went…”  
“Sampson... “  
“Yes?” There was a long pause, which consisted of Alfred shifting in his seat slightly as his brow furrowed up.  
“You never told me how my dad died.” Sampson’s face seemed to fall under a shadow as this was said to him, eyes leaking of light as if suddenly he could feel his Death tapping upon his shoulder. Matthew frowned, realizing now that this little hole where an important detail should have gone had been left unchecked for as long as he had known Alfred. Granted they had known one another only a year, but to someone who was only nine years old this was a very long time.  
“I… Well… You see… It was all very mysterious.”  
“How’d my dad die?”  
“Alfred, it’s really--”  
“I think I have a right to know. How come you never told me before?”  
“You were young, Fred-- Not ready to--”  
“Sampson, quit stalling.” Sampson’s mouth pressed to a thin line at this as his nostrils flared. He didn’t look angry but more fearful, like someone who had been caught in the act of telling some elaborate lie. There was fear and there was guilt, but most of all there was some awful hollowing sadness as he stared helplessly at Alfred.  
“I… I can’t tell you. Not now. When you’re older, Alfred. I’m sorry, really, I am. Maybe-- Maybe it’s actually best your… uncle tells you.” Matthew stared in bewilderment, eyes wide as if he had been struck suddenly. The scene he had just witnessed made no sense. There was something obvious, something right in front of him that just wasn’t piecing together properly but he couldn’t make sense of it. Alfred’s jaw was clenched at this evasion. He was obviously upset more at the denial of information than he was at simply talking about his parents. Lysimanche made an ominous noise in the back of her throat, feathers rising slowly.  
“Why is it always when I’m older.” The statement came suddenly, with a slight wobble of emotion. Sampson jolted minutely at the outburst.  
“Why is it always, later, or-- not now, Alfred. Why is it always, you’re too young for this, or you’re too old for that. I’m too old to play and have fun with my friends, but I’m too young to make my own choices-- to know the truth about what happened to my parents! It’s not fair!” The blood was rushing to Alfred’s cheeks quickly as he seemed to try and hold back frustrated tears, knuckles going white as he gripped the edges of his seat. “It’s not fair!”  
“Alfred, I--”  
“I don’t care! I don’t care about you right now; it’s not fair! Why is it everything is only about me when it’s what other people want? All of this training-- did anyone ever stop to think maybe I don’t want to be like my uncle? Maybe I don’t even want to be related to him!”  
“Alfred, this is uncalled for. You need to sto--”  
“You stop! I didn’t ask for any of this, Sampson! It’s not fair!” Alfred began to kick his feet hard against the floor, heels scuffing the ground as he did so. The movements rocked the chair around as it precariously tipped on his legs. Matthew was alert now, mouth agape in stunned silence. Sampson had stood up and was nearly looming over Alfred; he seemed fearful and unsure what to do about Alfred’s fit as the boy started to groan and yell in frustration.  
“It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!” Alfred’s feverish chant grew with more fervor as the tears spilled over. Matthew had put his hands to his mouth, looking at Sampson to do something. The boy was unsure if he wanted to get near Alfred when he was in this hysteric state. Sampson made eye contact with Matthew and decidedly made his move, scooping Alfred out of his chair and tightly restraining him in a hug. The chair toppled over as he did this, and automatically Alfred began to beat on Sampson’s back and claw at his shirt. He was openly weeping at this point, borderline screaming. It took several moments before Alfred seemed to abruptly start running out of steam for his rage and simply clung onto Sampson instead, crying into his shirt angrily. Matthew hovered nearby, unsure of what to do as he watched Sampson slowly pet Alfred’s hair and sway slightly to and fro.  
“I’m sorry, Alfred. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sampson’s voice was hoarse, as if he had just finished screaming at someone, and came out nearly inaudible. Matthew quietly shuffled to stand next to Sampson’s leg, laying a hand on his thigh questionably.  
“It’s hard growing up. It’s so hard. It’s hard, and nobody quite understands, especially when they’re already grown. It’s like people forget how hard it was to be a child, expected to be an adult in an instant. It’s so, so hard-- I promise that one day, Alfred, you’ll be grown and everything will make sense. And when that day comes, I’ll still be sorry. Just know that I love you. I love you so much.” Alfred pulled his face away from Sampson’s shirt now, leaving behind a big wet spot and coming back red faced and puffy. His eyes were still leaking, but a look of some deep emotion had overtaken him as he sniffled and balled his fists in Sampson’s shirt front. Sampson cupped Alfred’s face, a steely expression on his face as he clenched his jaw tightly. He managed a smile, if at least for Alfred, and merely let the boy put his head back down on his shoulder.  
Matthew ended up following silently behind Sampson as he carried Alfred all the way back to the boy’s room and merely crawled into bed with Alfred once Sampson had set him down there and left after a moment of hesitation. Frowning heavily, Matthew shimmied close and rested his head against Alfred’s back. Alfred didn’t say anything. Matthew could tell by the irregular heaving of Alfred’s back that the boy was crying again. This time in silence. Matthew pondered momentarily about all of this, trying to again make sense of that feeling that there was something he wasn’t catching onto. Something very conspicuous that had been sitting before his eyes the whole time. Trying to dismiss the unease, Matthew wrapped his arms around Alfred from behind and hugged onto him tightly. He could feel Alfred gripping his hands now as he continued to weep quietly. Matthew felt bad that this was something that obviously bothered Alfred so much. Matthew could understand the feeling. Not knowing what the real truth was. He supposed that he just didn’t feel like confronting that kind of issue yet.  
The boys remained like this until they eventually fell asleep, their daemons curled up together at the foot of the bed. With this terrible fall from mirth or merriment it’s likely best that the story go back to the track of happiness. After all, Christmas and thus a many holidays were just round the corner last we checked. Elation is hard to find when one is busy crying themselves to sleep. Fastforwarding a bit, just enough to bypass some of the more boring bits, one will be able to hear the sound of bells tolling on Christmas Day. The spires of the Oxford Cathedral were alive with the harmonious and melodious chimes of the church bells as the bell ringers pulled their chords, and the streets were already filled with people as many went to hustle to the church for the day’s services. Most celebrations and gift exchanging would be happening later that day after service had ended, and this was no different for the Vargas family and their plus two company.  
For the first time ever the two boys had actually stayed the night at the Vargas household, with the knowledge of Sampson of course. They had quite enjoyed themselves too despite the fact they were packed into the house with many other people. Adenah’s parents and the girl herself showed, as well as Emilian and his family. With the Vargas family accounted for, Sadık, and then Alfred and Matthew-- well the household was a mess. And better yet, the ever elusive neighbor to the Vargas family decided to stop by-- apparently they had been feeling in the holiday spirit and come upon a stroke of sociability. Two kindly old women with prancing pups for daemons who dressed as if they should be living further within the city.  
This all meant that a grand total of sixteen people were crammed within the walls of the Vargas establishment along with at least fifteen daemons. If anymore people had tried to situate themselves in the house it could be speculated that the roof would cave in. Despite the cramped interiors the guests and hosts still all had a merry time. Eventually the Ackerman’s and Petulengro’s left, and the two old women from next door went back to their own hidey-hole. Lovino accompanied Adenah back to her home, giving a warm goodbye to his family and friends before doing so. This left seven of the prior sixteen in the house. Still a rather full house. When morning came most were rather happy to get out of the house and out into the open streets. Most.  
Matthew had been anxious about the inevitable trek that would come morning time since he arrived the day before hand. He had some knowledge that on Christmas Day the majority of people went to the church regardless of religious affiliation. It was necessary. There were two specific times of year you didn’t skip going to church unless you wanted bad things to happen. Easter, and Christmas. So putting on his Sunday’s Best the morning off, he felt he might get sick to his stomach. This would be his first time going to church ever. He was a bit fearful that something would happen when he set foot in the church. Alfred didn’t seem bothered by it at all as he adjusted the collar of his coat in the small bathroom mirror.  
Feliciano was already bopping around the house in a nervous excitement with Michelangelo running around behind him in an effort to catch his older brother. Herakles was reclined back with Sadık, both of whom were wearing their best suits. Io had on one of her more traditional dresses and winter pumps, and was fussing over her daemon through the kitchen window. When Matthew and Alfred finally exit the bathroom, Io went to fussing over them. She was determined to make sure they looked perfect for their first visitation to The Church. She had deemed it of dire importance. Alfred’s hair was fixed to where his cowlick was hidden and Matthew was told to smile. The family exited the house in a line with Io linking her arm with her eldest son.  
The walk to the church was an experience in itself. There was hundreds of people in the streets of Oxford all making their way in the same direction. Rich, poor, and all those in-between were congregating together for the trek to the inner city. Matthew stuck close by Alfred with Ottium tucked around his neck. Feliciano walked behind the two college boys, holding Micha’s hand to make sure he didn’t run off anywhere. Sadık brought up the rear of the train with Dilara at his side. The pair caught quite a few looks from other residents.  
When the church came into view, Matthew once more had his breath taken away. It was just an frighteningly beautiful as the first time he had seen it up close, and this time he was going to go inside of it. Quietly, Matthew grasped Alfred’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. He wasn’t sure at all. Slowly ascending the broad stairs upwards, the Vargas family and company arrived at the doors of the church. They had been swung wide open and people were flooding inside like water flows once the beaver’s dam falls. All at once Matthew was inside, having been swept in with the others.  
It was almost as if it were bigger on the inside than it looked on the out. The ceilings soared heavenward in arches with intricate detail. The pews stood in orderly lines that expanded out sideways for some ways before meeting the stone walls. Oil lanterns, currently unlit, stood throughout the pews and up near the altar. The choral stands were full already, people of varying ages in wine red robes standing together. The choir director was before his stand, talking to someone who was holding sheet music . Possibly the organist.  
There was a brief moment where the family was separated and Alfred and Matthew somehow managed to get to the back of the line. While loading themselves in the seats of the pew, Matthew found himself at the very end of the line with an open seat on his right. He scooted as close to Alfred as he could be allowed and tired not to turn around. That was before a gentle voice, accented in a familiar way, spoke up.  
“Excuse-moi? Little one, is this seat taken?” Matthew looked up quickly and took a deep breath in shock at who was standing over him. There, in the flesh, with her hair pooled around her shoulders was…  
“N… No.” The woman in white. The woman who had been standing on the steps of the church. The one from across the street. She smiled down at Matthew and held the furs of her dress coat in place as she sat down. The pew was full now, which was awful and fantastic all in one.  
“Ah, c’est manifique! I adore the Christmas congregation. Don’t you?” Matthew nodded slowly, wanting to seem normal to this woman, and whispered his reply.  
“Oui…”  
“Oh? Tu parle français?”  
“Oui, mademoiselle.” Alfred’s attention was caught and he faltered when he saw who it was Matthew was talking to. The woman’s eyes lingered momentarily to Alfred, her smile in place, before she quickly turned her attention back to Matthew.  
“Il est très bien de rencontrer un autre orateur français.” She seemed exceedingly pleased at being able to speak what was obviously her native tongue, leaning back and folding her hands in her lap as her daemon sat at her feet.  
“Quel est ton nom?”  
“Mathieu. Et toi?”  
“Evangeline.” The name rolled off her tongue and seemed to sweeten the air. Suddenly every ounce of fear that this woman had ever invoked in Matthew seemed like a lost dream. It was as if in that moment the sun came from the stained glass windows and haloed her head in radiant light. As if the woman had dropped from Heaven itself to grace him. Matthew blinked to dispel the effect from his eyes but it did no use. This woman-- Evangeline-- was like an angel walking Earth. Her smile widened as he ogled at her and she laughed softly.  
“You are new to the church, yes?” Matthew nodded dutifully and clasped his hands together in a mirror of her current posture. Evangeline hummed softly and looked about the ongoings as people continued to file into the pews. The choral master was warming the choir up for the service now.  
“I feel you will like it, Mathieu. Is it not gorgeous? Ah, it pales all the town next to its beauty.” Matthew looked around now, trying to see the church past the dread it had accumulated in his eyes. It was nice, he couldn’t deny it without damning himself a liar. It was very nice, actually. The stained glass windows in particular were something he found lovely to look at. They depicted what he could guess were scenes from the Bible. He recognized Adam and Eve automatically and stayed looking at them for a moment before looking onward.  
“It is very pretty, I think. I haven’t seen much other things like it.” Alfred, now that he could actually understand what Matthew and Evangeline were saying, felt it was now needed to butt himself into the conversation. Loudly.  
“It’s not anything like the college, I’d say. The college is much easier on the eyes. This place seems a bit gaudy if you ask me.” Evangeline’s mouth hardened at Alfred’s words and she appeared to purse her lips in a way that caused Alfred to seem taken aback. Matthew nearly suppressed a laugh at the fact she had managed to make him falter only one say into the conversation.  
“Ah? You know of the college, boy? Is that so? You have relatives within perhaps?”  
“No, ma’am-- No, I--”  
“Alfred.” Matthew’s hushed but urgent interjection caught Alfred’s attention and he stopped speaking, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a frown.  
“What?” Matthew turned back to Evangeline now and sighed softly, looking at her apologetically.  
“Désolé. Nous vivons la-- le collège.”  
“Oh? Est-ce vrai? My, my... Serviteurs êtes-vous?”  
“Non, non-- Well, I mean-- Il n'est pas.” Evangeline’s face shifted to something like sadness but a bit like pity as she tut her tongue at Matthew and reached out. Her hand just barely ran over his shoulder before she withdrew it and rested it upon her bosom.  
“Matthew.” Now it was Alfred’s turn. When Matthew turned back to Alfred he was faced with an expression that was clearly not a happy one. Feliciano’s attention had been caught now and from the other side of Alfred he peered over in curiosity.  
“What, Alfred?”  
“What are you two talking about?”  
“Nothing… Why?”  
“It doesn’t sound like nothing, that’s why.”  
“Donc curieux.” Evangeline chided, eyebrows raised slightly as she inspected Alfred. He stared back at her with suspicion, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.  
“Oui-- Alfred, it’s really nothing. We’re just talking.”  
“You know there’s something called stranger danger--”  
“Okay, Alfred, that’s nice.” This seemed to be a devastating blow as Alfred deflated in shock, watching Matthew turn back to Evangeline who merely smiled down at him and proceeded to ignore Alfred.  
Evangeline and Matthew continued to converse in on again off again French until the woman gently shushed Matthew. The service was starting. The church was packed full with enough people that their collective breath was warming the air. Daemons either sat with or upon their persons in the pews or corralled themselves to the back of the church where they stood in a designated area until the service was over. Adelphos and Dilara stood back there with a herd of other large animals. The preacher came before the people of the church and started his routine. There was the telling of the scripture, of the angel Gabriel, of Mary and Joseph and who they were. There was the birth of Christ and of his legacy. Much emphasis was put on the love of Christ and the judgement of God and the weight of sin. There were songs sung in which many people joined hands across the pew or came to kneel before the preacher as they wept at the holiness of Christ. There was breaking of bread and drinking of wine and more songs and finally prayer was taken part of.  
While most of all this was a blur to Matthew, this particular part was something Matthew remembered distinctly. The church had gone dead silent, hundreds of heads bowed and lips moving in rapid movements. The fluttering of eyes behind eyelids, and hands clasped together. There was a sudden chill to the air as something seemed to sweep over the room and Matthew could hear faintly Evangeline breathing out her prayer to this supernatural wind. His mind was blank this whole time and he could feel Alfred fidgeting in place next to him. Ottium curled tighter around Matthew’s neck as he squeezed his beady eyes shut and then all at once there was a collective exhale. Then the service became riled with noise once more.  
There was the lighting of candles at one point and the passing of a basket that Evangeline gave Matthew coins to drop within. It was passed along and along, bobbing among the sea of hands like the basket of the infant Moses on the Nile river. Io dropped money in as well, and Feliciano did too. Herakles dropped money in and passed it onward. The final prayer of the day was done aloud by the preacher as the organist played dutifully in the background. The light from the windows had long since ceased to shine down by then and instead the oil lamps had been ignited. By whom, Matthew was unsure. It was as if they had simply been lit by spirit alone. At long last the service ended and there was a moment of paused before people began to leave their pews.  
At some point, following Evangeline out of the pews, Matthew lost track of the Vargas family and Alfred. He could have sworn he briefly saw Lovino and Adenah with their hands linked together but then he lost sight of them. Not knowing what else to do he stuck near Evangeline as she made her way to the front of the church near the cross where a rather realistic impression of the crucified Christ hung mournfully. He pet Ottium as he looked up at her, eyes glued to the expression on her face. It was something ineffable. No words could describe it.  
“Mademoiselle Evangeline?”  
“Hm?” She turned her gaze to him now, one hand resting on her daemon.  
“...” Matthew lost his voice, unsure of how to voice what he wanted to ask. Was it odd that he wanted to see Evangeline another time? Outside of the church? He didn’t even know if she actually lived in Oxford. After all, he had been adventuring the city quite a while now and never come across her. He looked down shyly, suddenly losing his confidence. Evangeline seemed to sense this and filled the blanks.  
“Mathieu, you are such a lovely child. I feel as if this may be the best Christmas I have had in a long time. I would love to see you again, petit poupée. Let us walk, here.” She extended her hand out, having removed her glove. Matthew slowly took the offer and continued to walk with her, away from the cross.  
“Shall we meet at the market? The bakery?” Matthew perked up at the mention of the local bakery.  
“My friend works at the Ackerman bakery!”  
“Ah? Oh, they have the best bread in England. Their baguettes help to quell my homesickness. Shall we meet there then?” She was smiling again, so sweetly, and Matthew could only nod in excitement. He liked the sounds of this plan. Once they had made their way outside and into the cold night air, Evangeline lifted her gaze heavenward.  
“The stars tonight look beautiful, don’t you think?” As if by command Matthew looked up as well and inspected the night sky. It was littered with bright white stars and clusters of light. To the eye of an outsider the amount of stars would seem impossible really, but as Matthew had lived his whole life with this sky he saw only what he expected to see. He could agree with Evangeline; it was beautiful.  
“Matthew! There you are-- Oh.” Feliciano popped out of nowhere nearly, apparently having stumbled upon his friend by chance in his search for him. He came to an abrupt stop, Lia skidding into the backs of his legs on accident, and cocked his head in confusion.  
“Feliciano? I’m sorry, I got lost. This is--”  
“Evangeline. Is this your friend, Mathieu?”  
“Oui, il est. I have to go now. Merry Christmas, Eva! Goodnight.” Matthew released Evangeline’s hand with slight reluctance and moved to stand by Feliciano now. She merely nodded, returned his sentiments, and smiled as she put her glove back on. Feliciano didn’t say anything but rather looked at Matthew with what was clearly worry as he wrapped an arm around the shorter boy and pulled him to his side. Feliciano was the one to make the first move, turning away from the woman and tugging Matthew along. She stood and watched the two boys go. Once Feliciano felt they were out of earshot, he started to speak.  
“Matthew, who the Hell was that? Do you know that woman?”  
“Uh… Well, her name is Evangeline… She sat next to me in church. She’s very nice--”  
“Don’t you know not to speak to strangers in these times, church or no church? What if she had abducted you! Mama would lose her mind if you got kidnapped right from under her nose.”  
“Kidnapped? By her? She’s not a kidnapper!”  
“Oh, you don’t know that, Matthew. Please be careful. That’s all I’m saying.” Feliciano seemed genuinely worried, upset to the point of his voice cracking even, as he stopped to make eye contact with Matthew. A spike of guilt pierced the younger boy’s chest as he held Feliciano’s gaze and then promptly dropped it.  
“I’m sorry… I didn’t know where you all had went and she was very kind…”  
“Just don’t do it again, please. Don’t look so sad. I’m sorry. I was just worried. Here.” With that Feliciano stooped and wrapped Matthew in a tight hug. Maneuvering his arms carefully Matthew managed to hug back, curling his fingers into Feliciano’s coat. It was then that the two were spotted by the others. Surprisingly enough it was Alfred who reached them first. He nearly shoved Feliciano off Matthew as he went to grapple him in a hug. Io came shortly behind them and dropped to her knees, completely ignoring her dress getting dirty.  
“Jesus Christ! Matthew, we found you! Felicia-- Felicia thank you, bambino. Oh, Matthew, I thought you had been snatched-- I’m so glad you’re okay. You’re not hurt?” Io seemed to be on the verge of tears as she ignored the fact Feliciano and Alfred were also in the way of her attempt to squeeze Matthew in a hug. Lovino and Adenah showed behind her with Micha in Adenah’s arms; Herakles and Sadık brought up the rear. Matthew merely wheezed slightly at all the attention he was getting and pat at whoever was gripping him the tightest.  
“I’m fine-- Really. I’m sorry Missus Io.”  
“No! No, don’t apologize. Please, let’s all just go home. I think it’s time we get out of this cold.” In one sudden movement Io stood, taking Matthew with her. Not having expected this, Matthew threw his arms around her neck and clung for dear life. She didn’t seem even inconvenienced by this and merely walked onward as people clamored around her in a circle. Alfred’s face was set like stone as he stuck at Io’s side tightly and bumped against her. Feliciano had gone to Lovino. The two were leaning heavily against one another, hands clasped together. Adenah was right behind them, petting Micha’s hair. He was asleep.  
The walk back to the house was quick, quicker than the walk to the church had been. Upon arrival the family burst into the house and was quick to wind down. Clothes were tossed off and the usual places of rest were taken. Io at last set Matthew down and Alfred took her place now, leaning on Matthew.  
“I’m tired.” This was the first complaint out of Alfred’s mouth. He didn’t mention anything about the incident. Io overheard this complaint and clapped her hands together and hummed loudly.  
“I didn’t forget the Christmas feast! Has everyone brought something to the table tonight? Come-- Everyone to the kitchen now.” The first to the table was unsurprisingly Herakles who took his seat at the table right before the twins made it. Adenah had reappeared from the backroom now, where she had no doubt been putting Micha to bed. It was much too late to wake him up to have him eat.  
“I bought the yogurt, butter, and cheese from the market-- I worked with the laborers for the money. Sadık may or may not have helped I guess.”  
“Ha ha, very funny, Hera.” Sadık made a face at Herakles as he took his seat next to the young man.  
“I brought bread from the bakery. Adenah made the dough and I baked it.” Lovino chimed in. His mother nodded her approval and pat Adenah on the back as she passed by to take her seat by him. Feliciano wrung his hands in his lap and made a strange face before straightening up.  
“I brought honey and jam. Mister Edelstein gifted it to me as reward for my giving him a composition I composed in his honor.”  
“Good! That’s very thoughtful of him.” Io interjected happily, smiling pleasantly.  
“I brought potatoes. I traded a cup’a sugar for ‘em from Julchen.” Adenah was the last to speak. Matthew and Alfred sheepishly had taken their seat now, unsure of what to do given they hadn’t actually brought anything but themselves. Io didn’t seem to mind seeing as she took her seat now and smiled broadly.  
“And I brought the poultry. This is a good haul this year! I’m very proud of all of us. I’ll pop the champagne bottle and get the finery. Hera? Will you bring the food forward? You know where it’s stored.” Herakles nodded to his mother as she stood once more and went to the cabinets. She set out the plates first and then came back with cutlery and finally flutes for the champagne.  
“They’re swarovski.” She added to Alfred, who was staring in awe at the jewel encrusted crystal glasses.  
“They cost a small fortune, actually. My husband fetched them for me once upon a time. He said I deserved nothing less to sip champagne from. What a charmer, huh?” The pop of the cork from the bottle was accompanied with sounds of cheers as Herakles came back balancing various trays of foods that had been listed earlier. The bread from Lovino accompanied by Feliciano’s honey and jams. The potatoes from Adenah along with the butter and cheese from Herakles and Sadık. The yogurt was a stand alone, but the best of all was the main dish that Io had provided for the family.  
“This is all so nice…” Matthew muttered to Alfred. It truly was. They had never spent a proper Christmas with the so-called obligatory feast. This was warm, pleasant. The food was put on the table carefully while Io went around the table and poured the champagne into the flutes. She took her seat again after recorking the champagne and putting it up for the time being. Raising her flute she beamed at her feast-mates and children with pride and evident elation.  
“Cheers! To another year passing by, another to come, and may many come indeed!” The collective call of exuberant cheers in response was the final piece to the puzzle. Feliciano turned to Matthew and clinked his glass against the boys and laughed before turning to his brother and repeating the gesture. Once first drinks were taken, eating began. Alfred, who had not experienced champagne before and didn’t know what to expect, recoiled at the taste of it and set the flute down immediately. Seeing that Herakles and Sadık were downing their flutes in one go, Matthew took up the challenge and drank all of his despite the bitter taste and vague burn as the drink went down.  
The feast went well, with much conversing and sharing of foods off of plates despite the selection being the same. Io even had Adenah and Lovino link their arms during their second flute of champagne as an old superstition that this meant their marriage would last longer. Alfred didn’t drink anymore champagne but somewhere along the line Matthew went from his second to third to fourth to fifth flute before Io switched him to water. Feliciano, who was older than Alfred and Matthew both, continued to drink and make merry. The relaxed atmosphere of the home wasn’t anything new but it was still just as enjoyable to indulge in.  
Finally once the food was cleared completely and people were rubbing their stomachs and burping softly, Io sighed happily and stood.  
“Alright! Gifts, gifts! The night is still young, we must exchange gifts before the stroke of midnight. Come! Come!” Io hustled the group into the middle of the room with fervor, disappearing into the back bedroom and coming back with a whole arm load of brown paper wrapped packages. Feliciano started to jitter at the sight of them, clasping his hands together happily and nudging Matthew with his elbow. Alfred arched his eyebrows at the amount of gifts present but didn’t say anything. Lovino had wrapped an arm around Adenah’s shoulder as she leaned against him with a soft yawn. In the midst Herakles was muttering something to Sadık incomprehensibly. Io dropped to a squat and released the packages onto the floor, pushing aside a small pile that read ‘Michelangelo’ in inky swirls.  
“Alright, here we are. Who’s first? Shall we do youngest to oldest?” There was a soft noise of complaint from Herakles at this, to which Sadık snorted and elbowed him.  
“Don’t be so rude, Hera. Let the kids go first.”  
“Whatever, Sadık-- we’ll see if you even got anything.”  
“You two.” Io’s chide silenced the two although they continued to discreetly elbow one another while Io sorted through the gifts.  
“Matthew.”  
“Huh?” Matthew had taken a seat on the floor, leaning against Feliciano’s legs. The surprise on his face showed clearly that he hadn’t expected his name to be called for a gift. Io merely smiled warmly at him and held the package out to him. It was on the smaller side-- large enough that Matthew had to use both hands -- and vaguely circular. When he took a hold of it he found it was a bit heavier than he had expected. He stared down at the gift in awe, unsure what to do now that he was holding it.  
“Go on then, my boy! Open it. I got this one for you, with the help of Felicia.” Feliciano’s hand landed atop Matthew’s head as Io said this, ruffling his hair affectionately. Matthew nodded hastily and made to start unwrapped the gift. The paper was easy to crumple but not to tear, and it gave up a good fight as Matthew tried to release his gift from its confines. Once it was off, he gasped.  
In his hands was a bright shining golden disk. It had designs etched into its surface and a pin that likely meant the little disk popped open. Matthew put his thumb to it and pressed firmly. As expected the front of the disk popped back and revealed a swinging pin inside. It took several seconds but soon the pin settled in one direction, facing an intricately drawn ‘E’ on the face of the device.  
“A compass.” Matthew’s words came out airily as if he was afraid if he spoke too loudly something terribly might occur at random. Io clapped her hands together in glee as she observed Matthew’s expression carefully.  
“Yes! I thought it would serve you well. You seem to enjoy traversing the town so much. You’re going to go places, child... You’ll need to be able to find your way somehow, hm?” Matthew’s gaze slowly lifted as he smiled at Io cheerily. Io’s head cocked slightly as she nodded to him and then picked up the next gift.  
“Here, this one is for Lovino! You can thank your lady and I for this one.” Lovino stepped forward slightly to retrieve his gift, eyebrows raised slightly as Adenah snickered lowly. Upon unwrapping his gift, which he did with ease compared to Matthew, Lovino revealed a book with spiral binding. Raising her head from his shoulder Adenah smiled sleepily at the book and looked to gauge Lovino’s emotions.  
“Is this… Mamma? E 'quello che penso che sia? You’re giving this to me?”  
“Adenah helped me put more recipes in it. I thought you’d like to make use of it. After all! You’re starting your own family, bambino.” Lovino smiled broadly in that moment, catching even Feliciano off guard as he laughed aloud. The swell of joy from the normally neutral Lovino brought a dazzle to the giving of gifts and suddenly the gifts were being exchanged rapidly. Feliciano received three gifts-- one from his mother, one from Lovino, and one from Herakles. A piccolo, a hand mirror, and a necklace of tempered steel. He seemed overcome by the piccolo in specific and wept upon his mother’s shoulder in gratitude. Herakles received two gifts in total and was content with it. One was from Io and the other was from Sadık. One was an old and soft looking blanket that the young man smiled upon with such fondness it was obvious to tell he had strong connections with the item. The other was a stunning cuff of gold plated silver set with jewels and carved wood. Sadık looked smug about the impressive glances it got from the collective, rather proud of the fact even Herakles could make no snide comments about the bracelet.  
Herakles gave Sadık a gift, as well as Feliciano and Lovino together. Although Sadık insisted he liked Herakles gift the Karpusi boy suddenly seemed to have lost his gusto and was rather flustered and a tad bit frustrated. It was only a jacket after all. Since Sadık complained about being cold all the time. The gift from the younger twins was a vial of essential oil. Sandalwood to be exact. Adenah received gifts from everyone it seemed and she cried at the fact, kissing them all on the face and apologizing about getting them wet in the process. She had gotten real silver cutlery and crystal glasses from Sadık and Herakles conjoined, a beautiful pair of dresses from Io-- one that Lovino was not allowed to see because it was to be Adenah’s wedding gown-- and an intricate pearl hairpiece from Feliciano that he proudly announced he had gotten it for much less than it was worth.  
At last it was Alfred’s turn. He had zoned out a while ago and was brought to with a jerk, blinking rapidly at the others. Lysimanche cooed softly in agitation but said nothing.  
“Here, Alfred. We thought you would make the best use of a gift like this.” Io handed over the package herself, not saying who exactly ‘we’ were. Alfred’s brow furrowed as he weighed the object with hands and then proceeded to rip the paper off. It was some sort of book, which at first outraged Alfred. He did enjoy books, of course, but to think that he would be gifted one alongside all these marvelous gifts-- it was rude in his eyes. When he opened it to look and see what was in the book, Alfred was met with shock. He nearly dropped it in surprise actually. The top half of the entire book had come unhinged and revealed an inside compartment. Inside of it was a small silver danger with a dangerously thin and sharp blade. Its handle was intricate and looked to be made of reinforced blown glass. He gawked at the thing within the book and snapped it shut with a loud sound.  
“It’s a stiletto. None of us are particularly… Well, what I mean to say is that none of us really have use for it. It was my husband’s. He meant to pass it down to the son that followed in his steps but,” Io laughed good heartedly as she observed her sons. “None of them really wished to! I believe that you might be just the person who would use it though. Take good care of it, would you? It’s very old but it has been taken good care of for all this time; the blade should still be of use.” Alfred blinked at Io and flapped his mouth wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what to say. Not at all. The dagger was… A lot. Matthew even seemed shocked about it. His own compass was already an impressive gift in his eyes but to give Alfred a dagger. It almost seemed like they were saying he was indeed grown up enough to bestow it upon. It was bewildering.  
The moment after the silence between Io and Alfred had stretched far enough, the various people in the room began to look and compare their gifts. Inspecting one another’s loot so to say. Lovino and Feliciano wanted in particular to see the stiletto, amazed at the heirloom being lost to someone not of their blood. Lovino seemed slightly upset about this, but Feliciano congratulated Alfred and clapped him on the back jovially. Matthew merely fiddled with the compass, finding North and trying to memorize how one would be able to tell where North is. It was interesting, but he had more fun simply running his hands over the interesting designs engraved into the golden face. He especially liked the sound it made when the face clicked back into place. It was a pleasant snap noise.  
Alfred had wandered his way back over to Matthew after a while, clutching his gift to his chest awkwardly. The book box had gone back to looking like a normal book. Matthew thought it was quite clever, although it looked out of place for Alfred to be toting around a book. Matthew had since seated himself upon the ground and Alfred hunkered down next to him. He leaned on him heavily and sighed gently.  
“... Are you okay?”  
“Of course. Why do you ask?”  
“I wanted to know is all. Do you like your gift?”  
“Mmhm. I do. Do… you like yours?”  
“I think, maybe.” Matthew leaned his head back against Alfred and stared at the compass clutched in his own small hands. Alfred opened the empty book and tugged the dagger free and held it firmly in his fist as he held it out. The light glinted off the blade dangerously and within the silver sheen of the metal was Alfred’s fiercely blue gaze staring back out. Something about it was unnerving and Matthew could tell Alfred felt the same, as he quickly put the dagger back in its case again. Io got their attention now as she started hustling everybody to get dressed in their night clothes. Everyone was crowding into the backrooms soon enough and lying down to bed. Lovino and Adenah were curled up together, Feliciano pressed snuggly into Lovino’s back. Micha, who had already been put to sleep, ended up with his mother at some point or another. Herakles and Sadık were near one another, but not together. Herakles was laid out on his back with Rhea on his chest while Sadık was tangled up with Dilara. Alfred and Matthew found themselves unsure what to do. The backroom was more like a giant bed than anything and they were rather used to being confined to a postered bed. The two boys eventually settled on a space near the wall and huddled together with their daemons assuming their favorite sleeping positions.  
When morning came Sampson came with it, come to collect the boys and escort them back home. They had enjoyed a grand time with the Vargas family, but it was time for them to return to the college. When they did make it back and were relaxing together, Sampson reclined in the window box watching the boys on their beds, he finally inquired about Alfred’s book.  
“It’s not a book.” Alfred replied simply. Sampson’s eyebrows arched up with a hint of humor as he stared at what he thought was quite obviously a book.  
“Is that so?”  
“It is so, Sampson! Look.” Alfred opened it now and revealed that he was telling the truth. It really wasn’t a book. Suppose it had been once upon a time, but no longer. Sampson straightened up and stared at the dagger within it with awe. Standing and pacing over and casually took the dagger out from inside and ogled at it.  
“Where did you get this from, Alfred?”  
“I told you. Madam Vargas gave it to me.”  
“She gave you a knife?”  
“Dagger.”  
“Don’t be smart with me, Alfred.”  
“Sorry…” Alfred muttered in turn, looking away and setting the container for the dagger down. Matthew had been casually watching during this time. He was laid out upside down on his bed with Ottium on his stomach. Everything looked much different upside down, he had concluded. Everything except Lysimanche who, as a bat, was just as upside down as he.  
“I had hoped that I… Well, your uncle also… It’s a very nice knife.”  
“Dagger.”  
“Alfred,” Sampson warned without much threat. “I just wish perhaps I could have given you my own first knife.” Alfred stopped as he was about to correct Sampson and paused. Matthew tilted his head at Lysimanche who did so right back.  
“You were going to give me yours?”  
“Well, of course. My dad gave it to me just about right before I left home. It’s alright though, of course! This is a fine looking weapon. Nearly looks brand new…” Sampson faltered as he squinted where the blade met the hilt.  
“Aaand, that’s blood.” Alfred hopped up now and moved to try and grab the stiletto back, wanting to see where Sampson was looking.  
“There’s blood on it? That means he used it!”  
“Who used it?”  
“Romulus Vargas, Sampson, who else?” Sampson lifted the dagger away from Alfred and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to keep him in place, seeming aghast at the new knowledge of who the knife belongs to prior.  
“Romulus Vargas? You mean to tell me this is his dagger?” Alfred scowled and tried to grab it again, nearly slashing his hand against the blade in his haste.  
“No! It’s mine now, Sampson.” The man’s face twisted in slight aggravation as he once more jerked the blade from Alfred’s reach to keep him from injuring himself. Matthew had rolled onto his stomach now, shoving Ottium off as he watched the weird game of Keep Away going on between Alfred and Sampson. Alfred had given up momentarily to try and reason with Sampson, putting his hand out for the stiletto.  
“This might not be the best thing to have, Alfred. Knives with bloody pasts make for bloody owners.” Alfred’s fingers curled into his palm.  
“Haven’t you stabbed people before, Sampson?” Sampson seemed appalled at the question but also had a slight twinge of guilt. With a childish pout he rolled his eyes and looked away. Alfred merely pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips. This was definitely a look he had adopted from elsewhere.  
“You have and I know it. So why would you give me yours?”  
“I didn’t use mine to kill people! I used it to scale fish and cut ropes and clean my nails. It’s a good knife, Alfred. Trust me when I say I wouldn’t give you a weapon I had killed with.” Alfred stopped for a moment, not having considered that blood on a knife often meant death. He just associated it with people getting hurt. After all, Sampson had been stabbed before but he was alive. Stopping and folding his arms over his chest he seemed to consider this as he stared down at the ground.  
“Sampson?”  
“... Yes, Alfred?”  
“Is killing people hard?” Sampson’s jaw tightened as he took a breath through his nose. Matthew was listening intently now.  
“Unfortunately, Alfred, no. It really isn’t. Let’s not talk about something like that now.” Sampson handed the dagger back finally and Alfred took ahold of it with a new light in his eyes. The talk was kept in memory, but was dismissed from the present in order to clear the air.  
It wasn’t until sometime near New Year that the two boys finally left college grounds again. By then Matthew was long past jittery. He hadn’t forgotten his encounter with Evangeline nor did he forget his initial promise to meet her by the bakery. He knew that perhaps he has missed his chance but he was, in his heart, a hopeful child. He wanted only to see her again when he went tearing away from Alfred once they had left the gates. Sampson was seeing them off and yelled after Matthew to be careful and stay with Alfred; his calls fell on deaf ears. Matthew supposed that Alfred had probably made it to Io’s house but he didn’t care much. He was on fleet foot to the Ackerman’s bakery. Nothing could stop his progress, not even when he tripped on a loose stone and scraped his knees through his pants.  
When Matthew arrived there was nobody outside the bakery and only Adenah’s parents within. Panting harshly, he spun around before plopping on the ground outside the bakery and sniffling against the cold. She wasn’t there. Matthew supposed he should have expected her not to be, but he had simply hoped…  
“Mathieu!” Ottium was on his feet before Matthew was, yapping cheerily at the approaching woman and her daemon.  
“Vous y êtes!” There was Evangeline in the flesh wearing all white once again. Her daemon was at her side closely, golden pelt contrasting against her clothes nicely. Evangeline smiled down at him jovially with a kind of sheer joy that made Matthew run up and hug her tightly against his better judgement. Evangeline merely hugged back and laughed as she ran a hand through the boy’s hair.  
“Oh, mon petit un! You came at last! I feared that your guardian had kept you from me.” Eva dropped to get to a eye level with Matthew and held his face in her gloved hands. Ottium was finally getting to greet her daemon, discovering something surprising. Much like himself and Matthew, Evangeline and her daemon were of the same sex. Jenesemeurs was her name and she had a husky voice with a honeyed tone to it.  
“Non, non-- I mean, we had to go back to the college and Mister Sampson just wanted to have us stay home for a while.” Evangeline listened while she pet Matthew’s face and hair, eyes bright and cheeks rosy.  
“Is that so? I see, I see. Well now we are once more together! Come, let us shop. I will buy you whatever it is your heart desires.” Evangeline stood now and removed her glove once again to let Matthew take her hand. Matthew did so happily but shook his head.  
“You don’t have to buy me anything, Missus Eva. Really!” The woman seemed shocked at the notion that Matthew didn’t want anything and gave his hand a squeeze.  
“Non? Mathieu, what ever do you mean? There must be something that you would like? Here, I shall buy us bread to share and then we shall stop at this lovely cafe to warm ourselves. Come, come!” Evangeline led Matthew into the bakery now and greeted the Ackerman’s tenderly. Matthew greeted them in friendly regards as well, in a splendid mood now being with Evangeline. The Ackerman’s were friendly right back, being dumbly kind in their usual charming manner. Evangeline had them wrap a loaf of bread for her and thanked them with a tip. She let Matthew hold the bread on their exit and he happily clutched it to his chest and reveled in its warmth as they stepped back out into the cold.  
Evangeline was making pleasant conversation all the while, inquiring Matthew talk about his day, his interests, his personal life. He answered any and all questions presented to him with the most wit and glamor he could muster, telling stories on the side. The cafe they ended up in was warm and cozy and the drinks sweet on the tongue. With the bread they had purchased it was perfect. Evangeline was sipping her drink and listening to Matthew tell the story about the time he and Alfred went under the college together when she finally stopped him for a moment.  
“Mathieu, you mention Alfred often. He is the nosey boy, oui?”  
“Ah… Yeah. He is sort of nosey sometimes… He’s my best friend.” Evangeline regarded him in silence for several seconds before nodding to herself.  
“It is very important for young brilliance such as yourself to, say, branch out. You must meet many minds to develop your own.” Matthew paid close attention to what Evangeline was saying, brow furrowed slightly. He had wanted to meet new people at some point, perhaps, but he was rather content with his contacts as they were. The latest new person he had dared to speak to was Evangeline herself.  
“Oh, I know so many people who would adore you, Mathieu. I would be enchanted to introduce you to them.”  
“Really?”  
“Why, of course!” Evangeline set her cup down and reached her hand across the table to Matthew, leaning forward. Matthew shyly looked down and fiddled with the cup in his hands.  
“You are so bright and charming, Mathieu. I have never met a child such as yourself. I care deeply about your well-being. I wish to see you flourish.”  
“I like to think I am… Flourishing, that is.” Evangeline clucked her tongue and shook her head.  
“Non, non, non. You can not truly flourish trapped in that building of stuffiness and constipation!” Matthew gasped softly but had to retrain a laugh. Constipation, huh? Evangeline seemed genuine so he held his tongue.  
“You deserve so much better than to live in the shadows of failed greatness. I am sure of this.” Matthew wondered over this for a moment and lowered his gaze. It was safe to say he was slightly embarrassed. He was never talked of in such high regards. Sure, Sampson had complimented him; it was normally in tangent or as an afterthought to something he had said to Alfred. He was a humble person. Only proud of what he felt he had a right to be proud of. Hearing praise was foreign to him for the most part. It was pleasant.  
“Perhaps…”  
“Huh?”  
“Ah, nothing. For now. Say, Mathieu have you tried to honey glazed chocolate crepes with the pretzel crumble?” Evangeline skillfully changed the topic and diverted Matthew’s attention for the time being. There were still many sweets to be tried and Evangeline’s pocket seemed to be bottomless. The shop keepers certainly weren’t complaining. They enjoyed Evangeline’s generosity and hospitality almost as much as Matthew did. The two’s meeting went one for a long time, to the point that the sun had started setting before they finally ceased their talking to make note of such. Matthew was aghast at the discovery of how much time had passed and quickly said his goodbyes so he could rush back home. Evangeline watched him go in silence, slipping her gloves back in as her smile melted to a stony expression. Turning around she made her way slowly in the opposite direction, crossing her hands together.  
Jenesemeurs was equally quiet at her side. In all reality the daemon had not spoken a single word since her introduction in the grand play of things. Which could be counted as odd, if readers registered how talkative most daemons are. All in all-- The two made their way down the street as twilight fell into total darkness. The lamps were lit and most ushered themselves inside. That being most. The city became a different place when night came, the poor and poorer coming out to scrape at what the citizens of the day had left behind. Evangeline scanned the stragglers for the ones that she knew. Eventually she found them-- a young girl of perhaps five with a daemon that changed often out of boredom, a boy of seven with grime thick under his tiny fingernails, and finally another child of three who toddled vigilently in search of food discarded. When they each captured Evangeline in their sights their dirtied and weary faces lit up and they joined her in her silent walk. Though they were still cautious of one another they did not shy away from gripping at her dress or patting at her hands in request to hold them.  
She smiled down at them with a tilt of the head, Jenesemeurs mirroring her grin, and led them off into night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the disappointment of not getting a laptop for my birthday, writing has been tough. Tougher than I care to admit. I apologize for the long wait and short chapter. I can't promise that my schedule won't continue to be erratic but I just want all my readers to know I truly am deeply sorry. Not being able to write pains me greatly, and taking so long to do so even moreso. I hope you enjoy despite this; don't forget to comment questions/concerns/compliments. As always, addio.


	9. A Decline

The countdown to midnight was filling the night with anticipation, excitement, and hope. People worldwide had been watching their clocks closely as they ticked closer and closer to the 12 at the top, cheers of triumph raised when the old day passed to the new. This wasn’t something that Alfred Kirkland and Matthew Bonnefoy were exempt from. Sampson sat with them, dozing obviously as he stared at his pocket watch. He was dressed in flannel pajamas with his bare feet out, toes curled against the cold. Alfred was jittery as ever, bouncing about and successfully keeping Sampson awake for the time being. Matthew sat upon his bed with drooping eyelids, turning his compass over in his hands while Ottium lay draped over his leg. Lysimanche hadn’t stopped twittering in his and Adelaide’s ear for the past thirty minutes, and the former daemon seemed ready to snap and eat her. 

“Almost… almost there…” Sampson muttered under his breath, barely blinking his eyes open far enough to see clearly. Alfred practically scrambled into the man’s lap, pulling the pocket watch into his vision as he squinted at it and huffed. Sampson only groaned in complaint and slackened , head flopping back. Alfred nearly catapulted himself out of Sampson’s lap when the clock struck midnight, giving a loud holler that probably woke up half the floor. 

“Happy New Year! Happy 2016!” He lept up on the bed at this point, jumping up and down and jostling Matthew and Ottium about. Lysimanche started to noisily sing whilst doing loop-de-loops as Sampson gave a loud nearly theatrical snore in the backdrop. 

“Woohoo!... New year.” Matthew gave a weak hoopla to amuse Alfred in his fanaticism, yawning noisily afterwards. Ottium nearly lashed out at Lysimanche as she swooped by him, hackles raising. 

“Can we go to sleep now!?” Alfred didn’t even pout, merely launching himself to the vacant bed and continuing his bouncing there.

“Whatever! Be a party pooper! I’m going to watch the first sunrise of the year!” As if to prove himself Alfred lept from the bed and landed with a hard thump, jarring Sampson partially awake only momentarily. The boy then proceeded to rush to the window and seat himself heavily. Matthew promptly flopped down, grasping his compass in his hands, and passed out. Ottium had already gone to sleep. 

 

When morning truly came around, all three of the occupants of the room were sleeping soundly. Alfred had fall asleep awkwardly with his face pressed against the glass of the window while Sampson had managed to slide out of the chair and was on the floor using his daemon as a pillow. The only one not sleeping in a wacky position was Matthew. Given it was nearing one in the afternoon and none of the trio had been seen by the scholars and workers of the college yet, someone had to be sent to check on them. The representative of the workers was Alala, who snuck in at 9 AM and left silently after inspecting the silly poses of Sampson and Alfred. The minds of the workers were put at ease. Near one-thirty the scholars board sent someone to check on them-- this person was Francis. One could note that there was a severe lack of the man in the scene since his unfortunate encounter with Alfred and Matthew months prior. This was no random act. Perhaps Francis didn’t wish to admit it, for he didn’t consider himself petty or cruel, but he had been avoiding confrontation with the children. He had perhaps enjoyed finally being free of such a strangling responsibility. He was perhaps still angry and ashamed about what happened with Alfred. 

And yet he was still the one sent to check despite his own nagging reluctance. He had taken his sweet time going up, Britainny rumbling her discontent at his lollygagging. The dangerous tone kept passerbyers on their toes around the man. When he stuck his head through the door Francis ended up squinting at the scene before him. Was Sampson on the blasted floor? It took him a moment to realize Alfred was face first on the window, and the last one he noted was Matthew sleeping soundly alone. 

“Ugh…” The groan slipped out unchecked as Francis shuffled into the room after Britainny. She silently loped right up to Sampson and Adelaide, lips pulling back as she sniffed at him. Francis joined her after a moment, staring apathetically down at the younger man. After several seconds he unceremoniously nudged Sampson with the toe of his shoe and upon receiving no response whatsoever squatted and shook him. 

“Mmmn… no, no. ‘m not sleeping in… ‘s a other…” Sampson turned his face into Adelaide’s fur as the daemon sighed in her sleep. Francis merely tightened his lips in a testily manner and moved on to someone else. Matthew was normally quick to rise, if he remembered correctly. 

“Mathieu. Boy, wake up.” It took a tad bit more effort than initially estimated, and Ottium nearly nipped his fingertips off, but Matthew woke up eventually with a loud yawn and a hearty stretch. 

“Nnn? Mister Sampson, what time is it?... Oh!” Matthew seemed to jolt fully awake the moment he opened his eyes and saw Francis looming over him. The vague look of fear and shame that overcame the boy’s features was disheartening and hurtful, but what was Francis to do about it? 

“It’s noon. You all need to get up. Your absence gave everyone a fright you know.” Francis spoke softly despite the fact he was there to wake up the room. Matthew seemed more at ease with this. Britainny on the other hand had no luck in getting anywhere near Ottium, who gave Matthew away with his bristled fur and wide pupils. 

“Oh… We stayed up too late last night. I’m sorry…” Matthew’s gaze swept the room once over and had to go back a second time for him to realize where Sampson and Alfred were. Francis noted he started to smile at it but then looked at back at him and dropped the look. 

“Ah… It is okay. It’s best you try to wake them up then. I have work to return to. Food will be served soon.” Lingering an awkward moment longer while Matthew nodded and tried to find something to say, Francis ended up taking his leave right as the boy seemed to finally find what he was going to utter. Britainny seemed reluctant to go and it was obvious to see her sadness as she eventually wandered out, tail dragging on the floor and ears down. Matthew finally released a breath of relief at this departure and slowly looked over to Alfred and Sampson. Sampson was still on the floor. Not that Matthew knew when or how he had gotten down there. As far as the boy knew Sampson had gone to sleep in the chair. He only vaguely remembered most of last night but that was one of the things he could recall. Slipping out of bed he meandered his way over and dropped to his knees by the man. 

“Mister Sampson… Mister Sampson.” Shaking the man with both hands Matthew made an attempt to wake him, finally succeeded when he pinched him roughly in the side. 

“Lord-- Augh, my back…” Sampson had sat up rapidly, causing Matthew to quickly move backwards onto his rear rather than his knees. Sampson’s hair was sticking up in a couple weird places, likely from him moving around in his sleep, and his I-Just-Woke-Up look made him look a tad bit pissed off. 

“It’s late, Mister Sampson. Mister Francis came and woke up me…”

“Late?... What--” Sampson gave himself a pat down, as if forgetting he was wearing his night clothes. He looked around and quickly located where his pocket watch had ended up, scooping it up and popping it open. 

“Good Christ, it’s after noon! New Year Day and I went and bloody slept through it--” Sampson looked at Matthew, his look of shame and panic melting away to an absence of emotion before his lips tightened and he gave Matthew a pat on the shoulder.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I mean… Oh, whatever. Alfred!” Matthew jolted slightly when Sampson turned away and raised his voice. It was always jarring to hear Sampson use any tone above his usual talking voice. The man wasn’t prone to yelling. Apparently even asleep Alfred would react to Sampson’s voice being raised, as the boy woke with a start automatically and seemed to move in a pained and disorientated state of mind. When he finally gained some control of himself he grasped his head and swayed on the spot. He had woken up too quickly, stood up too rapidly. 

“Nnngh… ‘m up, ‘m up.” Matthew gave a snort of laughter suddenly, noting the drool on the side of Alfred’s face and the matching wet mark on the window. Sampson’s eyebrows knit together and slowly raised up as he took in the sight of drool himself. Alfred took another couple seconds to catch on and touched his cheek tentatively before quickly making his best efforts to wipe all the moisture off his face. 

“It’s after noon, Alfred. I’d just like to say this is exactly what happens when one stays up past midnight.” Alfred only groaned and rubbed at his eyes, shoulders slumping. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture currently. Lysimanche stared hollowly from his shoulder, a vacancy in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t quite all there currently. 

“Yeah, yeah… Okay, my fault, got it. I’m starving-- can we eat?” The group was quick to dress at this point, Sampson disappearing to his room to do so while Alfred and Matthew went about their rounds. Their meal went by in mostly silence without much to recount. It was the first day of the new year and there was absolutely nothing interesting so far about it. Half of it had already been wasted away, and it felt like the other half was going to proceed to go by in the most boring and gruelling way possible. Second by second, tick after tock. The progression of time was torturous. It wasn’t until around five o’clock that anything close to interesting happened. This was when Matthew excused himself from Alfred and Sampson’s company to go spend some time by himself. 

Ottium was in relief at this as well, treading alongside Matthew in the form of a young deer. Now that the two were alone without interruption they got an actual chance to simply converse with one another. 

“Matthew?”

“Hm?” Matthew side glanced to Ottium, scarf pulled up over his mouth and jacket hood over his head. The wind was blustering against them both and the sky overhead was a threatening grey, making the world seem discolored and bleached out. 

“Nothing really. I just wanted to hear your voice.” Ottium flicked his ears as he trudged forward, keeping close by Matthew’s side. Despite the gloves on his hands, Matthew felt comfort laying his hand on Ottium’s back. Keeping his gaze down at the ground, the boy fell quiet again before speaking. 

“Ottium, do you ever think about settling?” The question seemed to come from nowhere, but truly it had been something on both their minds for a while. Ever since the realization and acceptance that some day, maybe even soon, Alfred and Lysimanche would settle before them. Ottium didn’t slow or stop walking but kept going at his steady pace. 

“Yeah. I do.” Matthew’s gaze slid up to his daemon as he fisted Ottium’s short bristly fur into his grip. 

“Do you think it’ll happen soon?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t think it’ll happen for a long time…”

“Ah…” Matthew looked back down now. He knew the answer was truthful, for he had known it before asking. Kicking at the ground with the toe of his boots, Matthew sighed into his scarf and got lost in his own thoughts before Ottium pulled him back out of them. 

“You know, you don’t have to worry about Alfred so much.” The tone of the daemon’s voice wasn’t teasing or annoyed, as it usually was when Alfred came up. Matthew looked up completely now, staring up at the swirling of the sky. 

“I guess. He’s my--”

“Best friend?”

“Yeah.” Ottium paused briefly in thought and speech, leaving a sudden silent gape in Matthew’s train of thought. 

“I know.” He finally said. With a light sigh to punctuate the conversation, Matthew blinked hard to try and clear his vision of the endlessly gyrating clouds overhead. 

“I don’t think Missus Eva likes him.”

“Alfred?” 

“Mhm.” Ottium went quiet again, as if not wanting to acknowledge the possibility, or even the truth behind the statement. The two had come a rather long way from their origin point. While they had not left with a destination in mind, they had managed to find their way to the flower gardens thus far. Matthew took a turn and entered the garden, Ottium taking a few extra steps to catch up with him. 

“Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know him… Right?” 

“I guess so.” Ottium, if he had proper lips, would be pursing his lips right now. Alas he did not so instead he settled with grunting his disapproval at Matthew’s noncommittal and vague answer. 

“Even if she doesn’t like him, why would we have to worry about that?” Ottium’s voice had taken on an uncertainty. He knew why. Matthew didn’t answer this and instead decided to change the topic slightly. 

“We can try to make her like him. He’s not bad…” 

“How would we go about doing that?” 

“I don’t know yet. Carefully, I guess.” Carefully was all to the plan they had gotten, and so that was what they decided would have to be the plan. It was fair enough; it was better than nothing. Between their dillying and dallying, the two ended up spending a little bit too much time out and caught chill. Matthew made with haste to head back to the room seeing as he didn’t wish to get sick. His talk with Ottium and own quality time had helped him but also not at the same time. It was a bit of a conundrum really. But all in all, that was it. Now back in the room, Matthew found that Sampson was gone and Alfred was busying himself doing something at the table. 

“Oh, you’re back.” The older boy had only briefly looked up to see who it was that was entering the room. 

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, too!” Lysimanche butted in. “Sampson said that if you weren’t back by the time he was that he was going to get a search party out looking for you. I’m not sure if he was being serious or not, but with how you’ve been wandering lately-- Ouch!” Alfred winced in turn. He had actually pinched himself to shut Lysimanche up; pain was pain. Matthew smiled weakly at this and shed some of his layers, aiming to get dressed for the night and go to bed early. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What are you doing?”

“Uh, nothing important really.” Alfred shoved what he was indeed doing away and stood quickly before pacing over to Matthew. He sized the younger boy up, frowning slightly at his findings, and simply tousled Matthew’s hair instead of doing what he was originally going to do.

“You seem tired.” Matthew shook his head to and fro weakly and smoothed down his hair with a hint of irritation. 

“It’s because I am? You should go to sleep too. It’s not good that we all stayed up so late yesterday, you know.” Alfred’s mouth pulled up on one side as his eyebrows knit. Lysimanche opened her beak as if to speak but only clacked it in a show of repressed aggression. 

“Hey, it was worth it. The sunrise was amazing. I wish you had been up to see it.” Matthew frowned at Alfred and turned away to walk to the dresser. Alfred stuck close behind him, stubbornly. 

“It was, I swear. Usually I don’t get to actually watch the sun rising. I’ll wake up before it and be too busy to actually notice it when it happens! And you always sleep in past it, so.” 

“I know I sleep in past it. It’s because I want to get enough sleep.” Alfred swooped in and pushed his back against the dresser drawer, closing it just as Matthew had opened it. Despite the boy’s best efforts he couldn’t pull it back open against Alfred’s weight and force. 

“It was beautiful, you know. Really, I want you to see it with me some time. Please?” Matthew pushed Alfred in the stomach with resignation. Alfred laughed, taking this as a yes, and grabbed Matthew by the sides. This elicited a sudden sharp yelp of laughter as Matthew squirmed away automatically, surprised with himself and Alfred at the same time. Alfred seemed startled for a moment before two and two clicked in his head. He was, after all, very good at math.

“Ha! You’re ticklish!”

“Please, don’t tickle me. I just want to get dressed and go to sleep.” Matthew grasped his own sides for protection and shimmied away from Alfred leerily. 

“Okay, okay, get dressed-- but don’t think I’m not going to save this information for later! I’ll attacked when you least expect it…” The playful threat hung in the air as Alfred wagged his fingers at Matthew. The boy could only roll his eye exaggeratedly and hurry forward as Alfred got off the dresser. While Alfred skipped back to the window, Matthew quickly got undressed and redressed. Ottium took his usual place on the bed in the form of a small lapdog this time. When Matthew was done, Alfred decided it would be a good time for him to get dressed for bed as well. Once he was dressed appropriately he bounced onto the bed with Matthew and sat cross legged.

“Alfred…”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you have your own bed.” Alfred seemed caught off guard by Matthew’s question and snorted, thinking it was some kind of joke. 

“Oh come on, we basically always sleep together. Don’t be so stingy out of nowhere Matthew. I promise I won’t keep you up tonight-- here, let’s go to bed right now!” Moving quickly, Alfred slipped under the covers of the bed and laid down on his back. He crossed his arms over his stomach and turned his head to look at Matthew, eyebrows raised. Matthew only frowned minutely at this. 

“How come you always sleep with me anyways…” 

“You’re warm, I guess. It just feels right? Jeez, Matthew, why are you suddenly so full of questions and concerns. Lay down, okay? You’re the one who’s tired.” Sighing to himself Matthew laid down on his side, facing Alfred, and stared at him in silence. Alfred merely smiled back. 

“Goodnight, Matthew.” 

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

And a good night it must have been seeing as the second Matthew relaxed and closed his eyes he didn’t wake up again until morning. Alfred had, sometime during the night, rolled onto his side or stomach and gotten a hold on Matthew in his sleep. This resulted in the boys being tangled together when they awoke. Matthew wasn’t innocent seeing as he had been cuddling right back. That was the truth behind sleeping together, wasn’t it? That it seemed to often end up with the sleeping party members in a mess of limbs? Still, that was hardly the point. The point was something entirely different, and currently lacking.

While Sampson was still trying to recover from his one night of off schedule sleeping, the boys were allowed time to do as they pleased. This included eating breakfast alone and communicating with their old friends the maids. Mikyla had come back and Matthew was happy to see her as always. She gave him a new scarf, apparently one she had knit, and after breakfast took her leave. Resting after breakfast included Matthew idly watching Alfred show him what crunches were and how you did them; later, the two engaged in a game of chasing each other around their room. This ended when they were suddenly interrupted by an unexpected visitor. 

“Oh.” Alfred and Matthew both froze when Francis entered, a mix of emotions suddenly exploding into the room. The tension skyrocketed as well as Alfred’s eyes narrowed with distrust. Francis swallowed tightly, gaze flickering between the two boys before him as he folded his hands together in front of himself. Shoulders squaring off as he cleared his throat he tried to sound as casual as possible.

“Good morning, you two. Sorry if I interrupted you in something… I merely came to talk to you.”

“About--” Matthew started almost inaudibly. Alfred cut him off, loudly, and with threat in his voice.

“About the man you were with.” 

“Oui, very smart, Alfred. I did come to talk to you about Monsieur Carriedo.” Matthew thought over the name for a moment before he realized who it was. 

“Mister Antonio--”

“Yeah, the murderer.” 

“He didn’t murder anyone, Alfred.” 

“He tried!” Francis’ eyelids slid down as he took a deep breath. Britainny stepped forward now, eyes alight. 

“Alfred, you do not know what it is you are speaking of. You do not know for sure what you saw.”

“You know.” Alfred’s voice came out layered with Lysimanche speaking in unison with him. Matthew grabbed Alfred by the upper arm and squeezed tightly. Alfred was tense underneath his grip but relaxed slightly when Matthew started to speak. 

“Who told you about what happened, Mister Francis?”

“… Sampson.” The hesitation was picked up automatically by Matthew who forlornly took note of it. 

“Yeah, the person he almost killed.” Alfred spat out.

“Alfred, I am not interested in speaking with you if you continue to be irrational and aggressive.” 

“He won’t.” Matthew blurt, causing Alfred to look at him in alarm. He had been about to say something irrational and aggressive, actually. Looks like he couldn’t now. 

“You need to know that… That this wasn’t something you weren’t meant to witness. I am disappointed in the both of you for going against direct instructions and even more so that you would act upon your emotion when you do not know the truth behind what was witnessed.” Alfred scowled and looked Francis over as if he were telling a rather unfunny joke. 

“As if we care about your disappointme--”

“Then what did we witness.” Matthew cut in. Francis started to pace to and fro, hands still clasped together. Britainny watched him for a moment before answering herself. 

“You do not need to know what you saw, child. Only that it was not something for your eyes and it is best you forget it ever happened. Life must return to normal for the benefit of us all.” Matthew’s mouth hardened and Ottium let out a gruff puff of air, his agitation revealed.

“That doesn’t seem quite right…” Matthew admitted tentatively. Alfred was tensing again, on the attack. This situation had escalated far too quickly due to Alfred’s anger. Matthew could only do so much to keep it was boiling over like last time. 

“Sometimes you have to make very difficult choices, Mathieu. Sampson was not meant to be the one to drink that, as I am sure you know.” Matthew nodded grimly while Alfred struggled to sort through the conversation. 

“He wasn’t… Then… Who…” Francis and Matthew both looked at Alfred vacantly, waiting for him to figure it out. 

“... What? But he doesn’t drink! Why would he…” Francis shook his head. Alfred’s temper dampened before flaring again. 

“Then why don’t you care!? Aren’t you his best friend? How could you possibly be so calm when someone tried to kill my uncle?!” Francis’ eyes acquired a dangerous light to them that made Matthew shrink away behind Alfred. Even Alfred’s knees gave a slight quake before he steadied himself and held Francis’ stare. 

“Your uncle is not a popular man, Alfred. He has had many attempts on his life. This one is… no different.” 

“It is different. Did you know he was going to do it?”

“No. I did not.” 

“...” Alfred’s silence was not assuring nor was it welcomed, as Matthew cleared his throat to fill it. The gears were turning upstairs and it left an eerie emptiness in the room. 

“Was… Was he working… for someone… The Church? The Church doesn’t like him, right?” Francis shook his head. Matthew licked his lips, unsure as to what to say himself.

“I don’t understand… If someone tried to kill him and people knew about it, why didn’t that guy get arrested?” There was a gap in the logic. Matthew hated this feeling. As if he were on the brink of an epiphany but couldn’t quite put the puzzle together correctly. 

“So it was personal…” Francis hesitated in answering, mouth shutting tightly. Britainny stared at him intensely before answering instead. 

“It was not personal… He was working for someone, just not the church.” Francis rounded on his own daemon, breaking into rapid fire French that came so quickly and aggressively even Matthew couldn’t keep up with what was happening. The two were yelling at one another, their voices seeming to cut in and out. It was almost frightening to witness, but it ended almost as soon as it began. The two turned away from one another in a jerky fashion as they seemed to be on the cool down. Alfred was gripping Matthew now, keeping him behind him as if afraid the rage that had just erupted in front of them would be turned on them at any moment.

“You need to forget about this.” Francis finally said, his voice tight. 

“How can we?” Alfred’s voice came out in a weak warble, betraying his strong front and revealing his fear. Britainny shot another look Francis’ direction at this, lips pulling back to reveal the dangerous teeth that the children so rarely saw. Francis seemed to snarl right back, turning his back on the two boys suddenly. 

“It is best you figure it out, and quickly. Do not speak about this with Sampson. If you do, I will know. I believe you do not want to figure out what consequences you will face.” Britainny’s hackles were raised at this point as she stared vengefully at Francis. It was always rare to see a person and their daemon so divided. If this was a clue in to anything, it was that Francis himself was divided on what to do about the situation. She was forced to go after him quickly in the end and the boys were left alone again. They found that their previously jovial mood was long lost. Francis’ long awaited visit to discuss the topic that had been hanging in the air had done more harm than good.Slowly taking a seat together at the window Alfred and Matthew steeped in their thoughts. They were both confused to varying degrees, unsurprisingly. So far what they knew was as following; someone in the college had been set up to kill Arthur R. Kirkland, it wasn’t The Church who set him up, and the attack wasn’t personal. According to Francis, he had many enemies so this still left many possibilities. 

It was worrying. It was fair to say that Alfred and Arthur had a complex relationship, yes, but Alfred still did care if say-- his uncle died. That was something on a list of things he cared about, yes. Obviously he was also upset that Sampson nearly died as collateral damage. Truth be told was that although he cared if Arthur died he cared significantly more if Sampson died. The nature and actions of the men in question made the answer to ‘why’ very obvious. Matthew did not have much reason to be concerned about this other than the fact that it very clearly upset Alfred. That and he could be incredibly nosy when he wanted to be. He had also witnessed this deed, so perhaps he had a reason to be nosy. Silence carried on, and on, and on. The two boys did not speak about it but rather wallowed in their own minds. Lysimanche preened anxiously; Ottium chewed on his claws. The only way the situation could get worse is if Hell itself wrenched up upon Earth and floundered into their room. 

Conveniently, Hell did not do this. What instead floundered into their room was a very disgruntled scholar with a pigeon sitting upon his shoulder. Presumably his daemon. He seemed thoroughly upset and was holding a stack of letters. Sifting through them he procured one and squinted at it in distaste. 

“This is where a… Mathieu, is? I have a letter to a Mathieu from a Miss Evangeline.” Time stood still for a couple choice moments as Alfred and Matthew slowly looked at one another. Alfred’s eyes narrowed as his lips drew back in that signature look of disgust. Matthew quickly shook his head, mind boggled as to why Evangeline wrote him a letter much less how it found its way to him. There had to be other Mathieus-- Matthews-- in the college. There had to be. 

“Listen, kid, I haven’t got all day. Is this yours or not?” 

“Y… Yes. It is. Uhm…” 

“Well here then. Take this.” The man practically just threw the letter at Matthew, which wasn’t even close to successful as it swooped midair and landed on the floor far away from where the boys were sitting. Matthew and Alfred stared at it while the messenger left, grumbling the entire time. 

“Are you going to pick it up or not.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I mean, I probably should. Shouldn’t I.” 

“I don’t care. It’s not my letter.” Matthew shot Alfred a sour look before standing and creeping over to the letter, as if it might fold itself into a mouth and begin screaming at him or something equally as ridiculous and whimsical. It did no such thing as although this world was magical in its own rights it was not that magical. Matthew fumbled in picking up the letter, staring at the loopy cursive on the front addressing the to and from. There was a wax seal on it, making the letter seem rather official. Adhesive closing was a relatively new thing on letters, but had been becoming more and more widespread over it’s conveniency compared to wax. Using his finger to open the flimsy if not intricate seal, Matthew tugged the letter free and started to read it. Alfred had crept up behind him, making work to read the letter as well. 

__

_Dearest Mathieu,_

_I am sorry to be writing you so suddenly, mon petit. I simply feared that I should not be given the chance to tell you in person the news I so desperately must tell. I fear we will not be able to meet up as often as we have in the past week. It brings great woe to my heart. A shadow is cast over my life knowing I will not be able to bask in your light. We created such a connection in our short time together. You are mature beyond your years and yet retain such purity and delicacy that it is like your soul is protected from impurity by God, Himself. Although we may not be able to see one another again, I assure you that we will remain in touch. My work simply calls me to her bosom, requesting I divert all attention to my tasks. I hope you can understand. Within I have disclosed the location to which you may send letters in return to me so that I may receive them with haste. I wish if only that I could sweep you away from that dreadful establishment and take you to live with me. You speak of being next to orphaned, and it break my heart, wrenches my soul! Perhaps some day, but for now it is naught. Reply soon, for it dreads me to wait to hear from you._

_Yours Truly, Evangeline_

Matthew reread the letter in the span of time that it took Alfred to sit there and grow impatient with trying to decipher the letters tangling themselves around. Not that he was aware Alfred was sitting there trying to read his personal letter. He was simply too enrapt with the letter to notice and felt he must reread it to make sure his eyes did not deceive him.

“What in Hell is this supposed to say? Can you even read this?” Alfred finally said, grabbing the letter out of Matthew’s hands.

“Alfred! Hey! Give that back!” Alfred did no such thing and rather walked away squinting at the cursive. If Alfred could barely read your standard print it was nearly impossible for him to understand cursive. He was very nearly a functioning illiterate with how bad his reading was. Not surprising to see him struggling with Evangeline’s flouncy handwriting. 

“That’s not yours-- give it back!” Alfred turned the paper over now and caught sight of what he assumed had to be an address given how it was written out. 

“Look, what’s this? Hm?”

“It’s just a mailing address, Alfred. Give me back the letter! Right now!” Alfred’s jaw clenched tightly as he stared at Matthew. The younger boy had his hand open expectantly, eyebrows drawn together in anger. Lysimanche twittered something at Alfred loudly and in that instant he took a hold of the paper and rip it clean in half. Matthew gasped in shock at the action and watched in bewilderment as Alfred continued to rip it into tinier pieces. The two boys sat there staring at each other, both seeming to be startled at what just happened. Alfred had dropped the pieces of paper onto the floor, hands now hanging limply at his sides as he took several shaky breaths. 

“... Alfred, no!” Matthew spontaneously started crying, flinging himself forward and beating on Alfred with both fists. Ottium went galloping after Lysimanche now as she took flight off of Alfred’s shoulder and flew away. Alfred caught Matthew’s fists easily and twisted his arms to keep him still but this only led to Matthew viciously kicking Alfred in the shins in retaliation. In that moment Ottium lept up and snatched Lysimanche out of the air, knocking her down into the ground with a loud growl. Alfred gasped and released Matthew. 

“How could you!? You didn’t even know what it said!” Matthew’s voice was peeling on a screech at this point, tears still bubbling out of his eyes as he pushed Alfred clean over onto the floor. Alfred scrambled back, eyes wide and panicked as he looked over at his daemon. Ottium had her clean by the neck, jaws encompassing her soft feathered throat. 

“Matthew-- Matthew, let me go.” Matthew stared down at Alfred, chest heaving before he wrenched his gaze away and stared at Ottium. The felis shaped daemon stared back, eyes bright. He was waiting. For what, Matthew couldn’t be sure. The okay? Matthew’s heart dropped to his feet and his tears only came quicker, harder. 

“Let her go, Ottium. Let her go!” Ottium did so with a hesitance that spoke volumes. Once free from Ottium’s jaws, Lysimanche morphed into a much larger animal-- a monkey of sorts to be exact-- and screamed at the other daemon before fleeing to Alfred. He caught her easily and clutched her to his chest tightly, breath coming in short pants. He was staring at Matthew still, shaking. 

“Why did you rip it, Alfred-- Just because it was from Evangeline? That’s not fair! That’s not fair that you get to have Sampson and I can’t have anyone! You have him and you have your uncle and you had Mister Francis. I’m the one that’s related to him! And now because of you I can’t even have him! Now you won’t let me have her!” Alfred remained on the floor but sat forward now that Matthew was engaging him in conversation, even if that conversation consisted mostly of yelling and borderline screaming. 

“She’s not good! I don’t trust her and you shouldn’t either! It’s not a matter of who has who--”

“But. It. Is! You don’t even understand!” Matthew stooped now and started desperately picking up all the scraps of paper. He didn’t care if he had to painstakingly glue them all back together. This was a step too far even for Alfred. 

“Wh-- What are you doing.”

“I’m going to leave is what I’m going to do. I’m leaving and if you follow me I’ll push you down the bloody stairs!” Alfred actually gasped at this, struggling to get to his feet. 

“You can’t even go anywhere!”

“Watch me!” With all the paper pieces secured in his grip, Matthew turned and hustled for the door. Ottium had his back, growling at Alfred as he took a step in their direction. He looked down at Ottium, zeroing in on his teeth, and faltered. Matthew was gone quickly, Ottium loping after him. Alfred was wrong about one thing. Matthew did have a place to go and he intended to go there as hastily as possible so he could glue the letter back together and then give Evangeline a reply. He would definitely be including what happened to the letter to begin with in his own reply. Anyone who thought different was a fool.

Matthew made it to the other building just as a familiar face was exiting. Naya Rochelle had bumped into Matthew rather suddenly, giving a surprised exclamation at the sudden contact. She took a step back and hit the door while Matthew took a step back on stumbled slightly on the stairs. 

“My words-- My apologies, boy.”

“Sorry Missus Rochelle.” The woman gave a mutter of ‘no matter, no matter’ and moved around Matthew, absently giving him a pat on the shoulder and back before going on her way. Briefly Matthew forgot about what he had come to do before turning back to the door. Right, he was mad. At Alfred. And had come here to prove him wrong about having nowhere to go. Back on track. Matthew entered the building now and mumbled incoherently. Was his old room even still there? Would he be able to sleep in his old room now?

Matthew decided that he better find someone, anyone, and figure out his situation quickly. That someone, anyone, happened to be a Riley Stein. He had been merrily strolling along through the halls with Eileen at his heels when Matthew found him and paced up to him quickly. He seemed surprised to see Matthew, grinning widely and remarking about how tall he had gotten. Matthew shushed the sentimentals instantly and got to the chase. 

“Mister Riley, do you remember where my old room was?”

“Uh, I’d believe so, yah. Why’dya figure? What’dya need with the old cup-board.” Riley scratched at his ear curtly and yawned suddenly. 

“Do you think you could take me to it, please? Is it still empty?” Riley’s eyebrows arched up in questioning at this as he started to piece things together. Just because he was a handservant didn’t mean he didn’t have his two-cents. Matthew’s mouth formed a thin and hard line as he silently willed Riley not to ask. 

“Yah, ‘d figure so much. Here’s the skinny though, Matth’ya,” The way Riley pronounced Matthew’s name had always been comical. “Why’dya figure you need to know this?” 

“I need to go there. Now please. If you could.” Riley seemed unconvinced of the answer but didn’t push it any further. It didn’t seem the trouble to argue with a child over something so damned trivial such as why he wanted to go to a glorified broom closet. 

“Right this way ‘en.” Riley arched his eyebrows up slightly and turned away from Matthew slowly, toes lifted as he pivoted on his heels. Matthew was rigid behind him. He couldn’t hardly guess what the deal was with the poor lad but he did know someone who would be able to figure it out. That way nobody would have to worry about what the damage was with everyone’s favorite little tyke. 

Leading the way, Riley whistled absently to fill the silence between himself and Matthew-- the latter of the two that of whom was usually much more likely to fill the void with polite chatter. Eileen panted nervously about the whole ordeal despite Riley’s calm demeanor and attitude towards the situation. The trip to Matthew’s old room was quick and anticlimactic. The room had already been converted back to a storage closet. The look on Matthew’s face did nothing to conceal his feelings about the revelation; Riley gently put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be so down on it, Matth’ya… Yah’ve been gone quite the while now.” Matthew looked up at Riley, brow furrowed tightly and mouth tipped down in a frown. The older man merely gave a sympathetic smile and squeezed Matthew’s shoulder. 

“Fret not, boyo! How’s bout we take a trip. I’m in the know on some’un who’d sure like to see’ya!” Matthew remained quiet and said nothing in response. Riley guided him away from the storage room after closing the door and off further into the building. If he could recall, Mikyla should be exactly where he left her not too long ago. They had just been talking not a while back.The woman came into sight after several moments of walking. She was talking to her daemon about something or other, probably what Naya had been discussing with them earlier.

“Mikyla, Missus Jovanesson! ‘ve got a vis’tor here for ya, ma’am.” Mikyla jolted, placing a hand to her chest, as she turned to face them. Maximus barked at Eileen, surprised that she wasn’t greeting him as enthusiastically as she had before. Ottium, who had been silent until now, chirped out a greeting to Mikyla and her daemon. 

“Matthew? Why, what ever is the occasion?”

“Liltte lad was askin’ round’about his ol’ room. Since it’s done and gone been converted, ‘d figure he’d be rilin’ to meet with’ya. Goin’ on ‘bout wan’in to get his old lodging back, he is.” Riley rubbed the back of his neck and gave it a squeeze, rocking on his heels slightly. Matthew stood stoically at his side. The torn pieces of the letter were still clutched in his hands. 

“Oh… I see. I’m sorry about your old room, child. Didn’t figure you’d be coming back to it any time soon. I’m sure you understand...” Matthew nodded. Mikyla could only frown, the wrinkles of her face exaggerating the expression.

“Come, come. I’ll see to finding you a place to stay… We’ll talk about this, though, child. I can tell you’re not feeling well.” Matthew said nothing. He didn’t even look Mikyla in the eye. Mikyla despite this turned to Riley.

“Thank you, for bringing him to me. I’ll see to that he ends up somewhere for the night.” Riley nodded solemnly and gave Matthew a light, gentle pat on the shoulder. Matthew shook his shoulder away and kept his gaze on the ground. Brow coming together in concern, Riley ran his hand through his hair. 

“Ai, ya, an’ a goodnigh’ to yeh. An’ you too.” Riley took his leave again as Mikyla ghosted an arm around Matthew, having noted that he didn’t feel up to be touched at the moment. Matthew led himself be led off as he fussed with the paper in his hands. He supposed that he must be a real inconvenience right now. He hadn’t thought they’d get rid of his room but now that he thought about it… Even he had never considered going back to it, not after living in Alfred’s room for so long. Ottium growled in annoyance at Matthew’s thoughts, earning him a look from Mikyla and her daemon alike. 

Matthew had to admit he was still furious at what Alfred had done but he was also incredibly sad at the fact that they had even gotten into a fight in the first place. He’d never gotten into a full fledged argument like this before, not with anyone. From Ottium, he received a ghost of the sensation of when Lysimanche had been clenched between his daemon’s teeth. A sharp of deep guilt hit him square in the chest and his fingers curled tightly around the letter fragments, crumbling them further. 

Mikyla had led Matthew straight to one of the men’s dorm rooms. He automatically shied behind her, Ottium taking the shape of a small bird so as to perch on his shoulder. Matthew, in all his years, had never actually... Entered the men's dormitory. It wasn’t for any particular reason either-- he just hadn’t. Even when he and Alfred had explored the servants’ quarter he had preferred to stay out of any of the dorms. 

Mikyla dropped him off in one room, left shortly, and returned with a new set of bedding. She put it on the bed for him quickly and with great efficiency. Matthew briefly asked her if she could teach him how to do it that quickly before stopping himself. The woman sat on the bed, her daemon at her feet, and pat her lap gently but firmly. Matthew knew what this meant. He slowly, shyly, stepped over and sat in her lap. 

“Now, child… Matthew… You’re under no obligation to tell me what’s wrong, but I do think it’d might be for the best.” Mikyla gently pet his hair as she spoke, brown eyes heavy with fatigue but just as warm and caring as they had ever been. Matthew briefly felt guilt over this, not wanting her to worry over him. He considered lying. 

“It’s... “ A long pause. He rest his head against her bosom and took a deep breath. “Alfred tore up a letter I got from a friend outside the college. Because he doesn’t like her.” Mikyla continued petting Matthew’s hair in silence, seeming to be thinking over what was told to her and formulating something to say in return. Finally her hand stilled. She turned Matthew in her lap slightly to face her more. 

“Matthew, sometimes people do things that we think are cruel. They’ll make you cry, make you even feel like you hate them. It’s okay to feel that way too. But, child, sometimes you need to take a deep breath and you’re going to need to talk to them about why they did what they did. Why they really did it. Because sometimes we lie to ourselves and we lie to others about why we do things.” Matthew listened intently as Mikyla held his face in both hands and kept his gaze with hers. He could feel tears pushing at the backs of his eye again. 

“It’s a part of life. Do you have the pieces for your letter?” Nodding. Mikyla nudged Matthew for him to get off her lap. 

“How’s about we paste your letter on back together?” Matthew nodded again, sniffling slightly. Ottium had been subdued greatly and now sat as an ermine around Matthew’s neck. Mikyla knew how to deal with children. A great many came under the guise of adulthood, freshly twelve and thirteen and looking for work and shelter at the college. Mikyla was not one to protest against the system but she did her best to help those disadvantaged by it. Matthew was no different. He was still a child. 

The two sat together and sorted out the pieces of the letter carefully, trying to fit together Evangeline’s handwriting from its asunder state. By the end of it, Matthew’s eyes were dry and the pink of his cheeks had dissipated back to normal. Ottium had not budged much the entire time but it was of no concern. When they finished sorting, pasting, and reviewing, Mikyla urged Matthew to take a nap. Later he would eat, clean the dishes, and then he could write a reply. This pleased Matthew enough that he agreed to go to bed without protest, sleeping in the clothes he had come there in. 

TIme passed by without much interruption for Matthew. Back in the main college building Alfred was still up and busy contemplating his earlier actions. As he should be. Alfred was a bit thick but he was not a complete jackass. He knew he had done something very, very wrong. At least in the eyes of Matthew. He, personally, had still a sinking feeling that Matthew having anything to do with this odd woman he met at The Church could only be bad news. Still… His actions had gravely upset Matthew, even to the point of violence. Something not at all characteristic of Matthew in the slightest. 

Lysimanche was offering no solutions at the time. Alfred could only consider one other option. Sampson O’Riley. Yes, that was it. He’d start from the top! From The Church, to Francis, to the letter. He’d tell him everything, regardless of what anyone else had to say, and Sampson would for sure know what to do. A dark voice in the back of Alfred’s head murmured something. He paused. 

He could get in trouble for this. Francis had said not to tell Sampson anything. What would happen if he did? Expulsion? Would he and Sampson be forced from the college? Francis’ warning had been vague and threatening. Alfred stopped and looked around the room. He could hardly remember what his room looked like before Matthew had moved in. As he thought on it more Alfred realized he didn’t actually remember much of anything outside of the college itself. Sure, yes, he had visited the town. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever lived there. He couldn’t remember anything that wasn’t having to do with Francis, the college, Matthew, Oxford. Alfred started to pace now. 

All the thoughts whirling in his brain made it feel as if it was expanding, pressing against the inside of his skull and threatening to pop the bones apart into jigsaw pieces. He sat heavily, Lysimanche landing on his shoulder as a hawk. Her talons dug into his shoulder painfully but he truthfully barely noticed. This was a great dilemma. Staring at the ground, Alfred contemplated if he should perhaps give chase and follow Matthew. It was then that the door, previously left open when Matthew stormed out, slammed shut. Alfred’s face paled. 

He stared at the door in blank shock, the terror coursing through his young veins making the blue of his irises light up in an animalistic way. A shiver raced its way down from the back of his neck along his spine, the muscles of his body clenching. He had thought that the thing was gone. Whatever it was. He grabbed Lysimanche forcibly and held her to his chest. She had enlarged her form now to a canine and was growling lowly. The air of the room was heavy and thick, hard to breath and harder to swallow. Swallow Alfred did, tightly, as he refused to let his eyes leave the door. It seemed leaving was now not an option. 

Alfred sat there in still apprehensive silence for some time before someone finally came to him. Luckily it was a Human of flesh, bone and blood, with a daemon at their side clear as day. Sampson O’Riley. He and Adelaide came into the room about an hour or more after the incident of the slamming door. Alfred nearly cried out in joy upon seeing him, tears of relief pricking stubbornly at his eyes as he lept from bedside and shortly rushed the older man. Sampson caught Alfred easily, eyebrows arching up at the strange behavior. It took him not too long to notice the missing child. 

“Freddy, now, where’s Matthew? What’s all this about? You’re practically shaking in your stockings!” Sampson dropped to one knee, keeping a firm comforting hold on Alfred’s shoulders as he inspected the boy’s face. He was still pale as a sheet. Alfred tensed under his touch at the mention of Matthew. He could maybe at least tell him about that.

“He left, Sampson. I drove him away.” Alfred’s voice came out high pitched and tight. Sampson’s features drew in, confusion evident. 

“You did what now, Fred? Repeat that for me.” 

“I said I drove him away. I made him mad, and he left.” Alfred only spoke louder now, shrillness of his tone grating on the ears. Sampson’s face hardened minutely. His expression was stern but not mad. Alfred never much liked when Sampson felt the need to be stern with him, but he could only hope that perhaps this meant valuable life advice was about to come to him. 

“Alfred… I need you to tell me what you said or did. Okay? Don’t sugarcoat a thing. I can’t help you make anything right if I don’t know the exact details.” Adelaide was pressed into Sampson’s side, eyeing both of them in turn. She remained quiet for now. Alfred lowered his eyes and stared at the floor for several seconds. 

“He got a letter from this woman who he met when we went to church and I don’t like her because she gives me a bad feeling and I don’t think it’s good that Matthew is talking to her, and so I ripped up the letter.” He spoke quickly, in a run on manner indicating the shame of admitting something you’ve done wrong aloud. Very rarely did people enjoy admitting they had done wrong. 

“... I see. Alfred.... I know I have always told you it is important to trust your gut, but it’s not your place to act for others. You have to know this. Now what did Matthew do that indicated he was upset with you?”

“Aside from leave?” Alfred questioned.

“Yes, aside from leave.” Sampson answered. Alfred took another deep breath and pressed his lips together tightly for a brief pause. 

“First he started crying, and I felt really bad, but then he… He attacked me. Sort of. It didn’t hurt when he was hitting me with his hands but then Ottium. He…” Alfred tightened his hold on Lysimanche. Sampson didn’t need Alfred to say the rest. It was not entirely uncommon for childrens’ daemons to get out of check sometimes when they became exceptionally emotional, particularly in an angered manner. There was just no other way for them to express themselves besides lashing out at others. Sampson gave Alfred’s shoulders a slight squeeze and pulled him into a hug. 

“You need to understand that what you did was wrong. Matthew is a very quiet and polite person and has not lived the best of lives. His anger at you is justified, but no matter what you have to apologize to him. Maybe not right now, but eventually. Do you understand?” Alfred nodded into Sampson’s neck, sniffling. The man smelled like something warm and a bit like a clean dog. Alfred stayed still there, just breathing slowly, and Sampson allowed him to do so. The man rubbed Alfred’s back firmly and simply sighed softly. 

“Sampson? Would we ever be forced out of the college? For real?” Sampson gently pulled Alfred back to look at him, worry clearly written over his face. For all the time he made that expression, it was a wonder his sparse wrinkles weren’t much deeper. 

“Alfred, who talked to you about this?” 

“Is it?” Sampson paused.

“Yes. It is. Will you tell me who talked to you about this?” 

“Uh…. The Headmaster, Sir Jefferson, and uh, Sir Bonnefoy.” 

“Recently?...”

“Just… Just Sir Bonnefoy.” Sampson’s eyes narrowed minutely as the muscles around his mouth tightened. Alfred wasn’t sure if he liked that expression on Sampson. It relaxed off his face eventually. 

“I’m sorry, Alfred. I’ll speak with him on this. He apparently has forgotten how to separate his personal and professional affairs.” Alfred felt his stomach knot. He had to tell Sampson. He had to. 

“W… Wait! Sampson…” Sampson, who had just stood, stopped and looked at Alfred with an eyebrow quirked up. The boy clenched his jaw and swallowed dryly. He had to tell him. He had to tell him the truth. The whole truth.

“Sampson, I know who tried to kill you.” Sampson’s expression flattened and he stared at Alfred expectantly. Adelaide’s hackles raised up slowly in the silence, he lips fighting to not draw back over her teeth. Lysimanche wiggled free of Alfred’s grasp and dropped to the floor, going to pace back and forth behind his legs. 

“It was someone at the college. A scholar. Sir Bonnefoy is friends with him. The… The man I attacked. It was him. Sir Carriedo… I think... “ Alfred tried to keep his voice level and steady, but the intensity of Sampson’s gaze felt like it might set him on fire. He could sense the barely contained rage. 

“Sir Bonnefoy told me that if I told you, that he’d find out, and I’d get in trouble. He isn’t telling anyone about it, Sampson!” Alfred choked on his words then as Sampson took a deep shaken breath and shivered. It wasn’t often Sampson was ever overtaken by his own emotions. Sampson controlled himself in that moment and nodded slowly. 

“I see… So that’s the case. That’s why he… Alfred, I will handle this. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about this. I want you to know that nothing bad will come to you. I’ll make sure of it.” The fierce light in Sampson’s eyes had not left, although his voice was level and controlled. Alfred couldn’t help but feel better hearing Sampson’s words. He knew that the man meant every one of them. He couldn’t help but feel a tad bit helpless still, despaired over the events that were unraveling around him. It was all so unfair. He didn’t understand it. 

“Sampson?...” Alfred’s voice was soft, quivering. Uncharacteristically so. Sampson relaxed slightly, gazing at Alfred with something much like a deep sadness. 

“Yes?”

“I…” Alfred paused on the words, having not ever really said them to anyone in his life. “I love you, Sampson.” Sampson’s body physically reacted, shoulders drawing in as if he had been struck in the chest. His fists clenched and his face tightened. It was a weird expression. Not one Alfred had ever really seen on someone’s face before. Sampson’s eyes got watery, and he gave a great sniff and ran a hand over his face. 

“... Thank you, Alfred. I love you too, lad. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t forget to eat your dinner. Everything is going to be alright.” Alfred nodded, feeling another wave of his own tears coming on inexplicably. Sampson left then, Adelaide running ahead of him. He had things he needed to do. Someone he needed to speak to. He needed to find Francis. If he was correct, his department was somewhere on the other side of the grounds. The walk there was going to be the worst part of this. He had thoughts swirling through his head, emotions clashing against one another. 

Sampson spent the entire walk submerged in his own thoughts, trying to keep his emotions under tabs. He needed to not do anything rash.Granted the new information was distressing. Francis, not only knowing who had tried to kill Arthur but keeping it a secret. This was all shitty lucky, he swore on it. A friend of Francis trying to kill Arthur, Alfred and Matthew being there to witness it, Sampson nearly dying in Arthur’s stead. Shitty lucky! Positively shitty luck!

Sampson threw the door to the room open, disrupting a talk among several scholars and the transcribing of few more. Francis was among them. He stood bolt straight, a wild guilty light illuminating his eyes from within. Britainny’s fur stood up all at once in a second as she pulled her lips back and made a noise of intimidation. Her display, although frightening, reeked of fear. Adelaide’s hackles were up already, but Sampson kept his expression stony. 

“Francis. I think we’re in need to talk.” The other scholars present seemed confused and bewildered by the sudden interruption now, shifting away from Francis’ rigid form as Britainny slunk backwards. Francis eyes flickered from Sampson, to the door he had entered, and then back to Sampson. He smoothed his hands down the front of his clothes and cleared his throat. 

“You are interrupting--”

“  
.” Francis halted at the interjection. There was a collective whisper, a murmuring, from the other scholars at this. It wasn’t as if most of them didn’t know who Sampson was. Most people in England knew who Sampson was to some degree. Francis looked to his peers and then back to Sampson. 

 

“... Alright.” Sampson waited for Francis to exit the room first. The man was hesitant in his movements, taking his sweet time to keep an eye on Sampson as he walked past him. The door was closed rapidly as Sampson joined Francis in the hall. 

There was a dull thump that was likely heard in the room previously exited. The cause of this sound was Sampson taking hold of Francis by his shirtfront and pushing him roughly into the wall. Francis immediately grabbed Sampson’s forearms for purchase, eyes wide with surprise. Britainny stood still for a moment before swinging her head to and fro in a vain effort to locate where Adelaide was. Little did she know the dog was on the other side of the door. She was making sure none of the other scholars came out into the hallway. 

“What do you think you’re bloody fucking playing at, Francis?” Sampson’s voice was chilled and low. Francis could feel the other man’s breath on his face. He already knew what he was talking about. 

“He told you.” His voice came out weak and hoarse. Of course Alfred had. Why wouldn’t Alfred tell Sampson something? Sampson pressed harder into Francis and took a deep breath. 

“How could you? He’s your friend, Francis. You’ve known each other since you were boys! How could you!?” Sampson was doing poorly in repressing his anger at the situation. He knew this. He took another deep breath and let his head drop, easing up slightly on Francis. Francis seemed to be holding his breath, his form stiff and unyielding under Sampson’s hands. 

“You don’t understand. I found out too late;” Francis started. “What use is it to report when nothing happened and nobody suffered from it?” 

“The boys saw all of it. I nearly died, and if not me then Arthur. Who hired him to do it. Tell me now, or by God’s name, Francis-”

“I don’t know.” Francis was lying. He knew exactly who had put Antonio up to it. Not that Antonio would need any more encouragement to try for Arthur’s life. Did that mean he was going to tell Sampson? Never. Not now. Not yet. 

Sampson search Francis’ face intently, trying to decipher if he was being told a lie or the truth. He wouldn’t admit it but Sampson was hurt by Francis’ seeming apathy towards the situation. It stung. He hadn’t taken Francis for the type of person to be like this. Begrudgingly, Sampson accept Francis’ words as truth. He didn’t let him go quite yet. 

“I want you to hear me now, Francis Bonnefoy. I want you to hear me real good. If you ever threaten Alfred ever again… I will make sure you are miserable. I will haunt you like a ghast. You have no right to threaten him as you did.” Francis mouth tightened to a thin line. Britainny was still. There was a meekness, a defeat, radiating off of Francis. He had been caught in the act and had nothing to say to defend himself. An indomitable force over Francis’ will had been exerted. Sampson had won this encounter. 

Sampson moved away from Francis, the tension still remaining between them. Sampson righted his clothing and cleared his throat. Pacing over, he opened the door and Adelaide trotted out of the room with her ears perked. Britainny peeled her lips back, ears laid flat against her skull. She didn’t seem to be aggressing the smaller daemon but rather seemed anxious. Rightfully so. The Lion may be mighty but loyalty so strong as the Dog’s could make any one Beast quake in their skins.

Sampson gave Francis one last withering look and turned his back on the man. Francis watched the man walk off in silence. He had nothing left to say. The pieces were laid, waiting to be put together now. Great change was coming in the winds, bitter and repugnant. There was the creak and groan of the old building. Francis has entered the room again, refusing to answer questions. Sampson was off to his personal quarters to brood. Something which was not named and was not seen, moved silently through the halls now. It slunk through shadows and twirled its way up through darkness into the upper wings. It dashed along the open halls and slipped through a doorway. 

There was a settling of cold over Alfred’s room. Lysimanche’s pelt stood on end instinctively. The gooseflesh along Alfred’s arms raised to attention. Alfred’s head popped up from the bowed position it had been in, and he swung it to and fro wildly with a throaty noise of apprehension. He knew he was no longer alone and he could guess that whatever was there was the same thing that had always been known to torment him when he was alone. But why did it have to show up now? Why now, of all times? 

He stared pointedly into the thin air, blue eyes searching for something. Anything. He very poignantly regretted upsetting Matthew in that moment. The cold aura that had entered the room seemed to pull in on itself, solidifying into one area. The sudden temperature change left Alfred’s skin feeling feverish as he swooned momentarily in fright. Another low moan of fear managed to find its way out his mouth and he clung to Lysimanche desperately. She was on the verge of yowling in pain at his grip. 

The presence came closer and closer, radiating a cold that felt dank and death-like. It came upon Alfred until it felt like his entire front was enveloped in a blanket of ice. Then it was gone. He slumped them, suddenly and without warning. The fright of the encounter had put him to a empty slumber. This would only be the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long has it been? Good grief! I'm so sorry you guys... I promise I'll try to be faster with the publication of chapter 10! Finally after like, 2 and a 1/2 years we get to the point where plot starts to become thicker. Again, I am SO sorry for how long it took to write this. My senior year of high school has been kicking my ass... Thank you for reading, thank you so much. I'll see you for chapter 10! 
> 
> Addio.


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